


Night Wolf & Dr. Stark

by vivilove



Series: Career Day Romance [15]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: But not really a Batman AU, But this is more about Jonsa, Davos is the Alfred to Jon’s Bruce Wayne, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, I can't seem to help that!, Inspired by Batman, Jon and Sansa Are Not Related, Jon is a Vigilante Crimefighter, Minor Violence, Modern Westeros, Romance, Sansa is a doctor, okay there wound up being more action than expected
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-13
Updated: 2019-08-21
Packaged: 2020-05-07 07:22:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 36,909
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19204612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vivilove/pseuds/vivilove
Summary: The illegitimate son of a tycoon industrialist, Jon Snow is a mystery to the paparazzi of Kings Landing.  Is he an eccentric recluse or a billionaire playboy?  Even more intriguing to local papers is the mysterious Night Wolf, a vigilante crime fighter who appeared over a year ago intent on ridding Kings Landing of the crime and corruption that plagues it.However, Dr. Sansa Stark discovers these two seemingly different individuals are one and the same and a whole lot more when a wounded wolf winds up on her doorstep one night.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Castalya](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Castalya/gifts), [mynameisnoneya](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mynameisnoneya/gifts), [Titania_Queen_of_the_Fairies](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Titania_Queen_of_the_Fairies/gifts).



> I don't typically like doing two Career Day stories at once but I finished another WIP recently and I've been sitting on this one for a while. I've got about 5 out of 7 planned chapters done and I'll try and update weekly.
> 
> If you're looking for a superhero story, you may be disappointed. The crimefighting is there but takes a back seat to romance a good part of the time. Here's hoping it will appeal to some of you!!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Amazing moodboard by @otp-that-was-promised on Tumblr! Thank you!!

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

**Prologue-**

Davos Seaworth watched his employer angrily pacing the empty living room. The echo of a slamming door was still ringing throughout the place. The boy’s muffled sobs, the ones he hadn’t allowed to escape in front of his father, could be heard coming from the next room and Davos’ heart was pierced on his behalf. Life could be so unfair. He’d served Mr. Targaryen for several years now though and knew he’d be more irritated than anything by this delay.

“Perhaps I could give it a try, sir?”

Rhaegar turned towards him with a fearsome scowl before his expression softened marginally. “I suppose. Maybe you’ll have better luck making him see sense.” He glanced at his watch. “Don’t forget I’ve got that meeting with the Board in an hour. Calm him down if you can but, one way or another, he’s coming with us.”

“Of course, sir.”

Mr. Targaryen gave the apartment’s shabby furniture a final look of disdain and left to go wait in the limo. Once he was gone, Davos approached the boy’s room. The sobs had already subsided.

They’d only met a handful of times before today but Davos already understood the child better than his father ever would. A very bright boy, observant and curious, though not always the most attentive in class. A touch stoic for one so young and stubborn at times but also possessing a loving heart. Quick to take offense particularly when it came to his mother. He could hardly fault him for that. But most of all, a child in mourning; grieving, angry, feeling miserably alone and, without any say in the matter, he now found his world being turned on its ear. Meanwhile, his only living parent appeared completely incapable of giving him the understanding, patience and affection he desperately needed.

He put his hand on the knob. He’d not locked it. “Jon? It’s Davos. May I come in?” He received no reply but he’d take it as acceptance in this case. Better he try than allow his father to have him carried out of here like a sack of a potatoes, a very unwilling sack at that.

He was sitting on his bed, wiping the last of his tears away when Davos entered.

“I don’t want to live with him.”

Davos pulled the lone chair to the center of the room and sat. “I know you don’t but you cannot stay here. Your father…”

“Never wanted me before.” His mulish expression dared Davos to say otherwise. A hard truth and the man would not patronize him by pretending he was mistaken.

“He’s taking you now. You’re twelve, Jon. You can’t live alone and you’re his son. You’ll be…” He hesitated. He’d wished he could say he would be loved. _He can be…by me_. “You’ll be taken care of.”

Dark grey eyes flickered to a picture sitting by his bed. Her eyes had been grey, too. She’d been a beautiful woman and a loving mother. Davos hoped the child would know another woman’s love in time.

_Elia will be kind to you, I know, but it will not be easy for her to have a daily reminder of his infidelity. Your father will be who he has always been_. That thought brought no comfort at all.

“Can I still go to my school?”

“Maybe, maybe not. I cannot say for certain.” Mr. and Mrs. Targaryen led very busy lives that kept them away from home a good deal. At twelve, it was more likely he’d be sent to boarding school like his half-siblings. “But wherever you go to school if you ever need anything…anything at all, you can always call on me.”

He seemed to take some comfort in that. Time was slipping by and he could already picture Rhaegar debating about coming back up to the apartment and any progress he’d made being dashed away again. Davos looked at another picture by Jon’s bed, a recent one. Lyanna Snow and her son at a ballgame, wearing matching hats and smiling for the camera.

“That’s a nice picture.”

“She took me to see the Wolves’ game for my birthday last month as a surprise, second row. I’d only ever seen them on TV. All my friends at school were so jealous. It was the best day I’ve ever...she said we’d try and go again sometime.”

Rhaegar owned a box at the stadium but never went. The tickets would’ve been expensive on her salary.

The child’s face screwed up in misery, tearing his heart to shreds. “I miss her, Davos. I miss her so much.”

He didn’t want to cry, Davos knew, but some hurts are too great to ignore, even for young stoics. He crossed the few feet that had separated them and held the boy close while he cried. His father might never give him the things he needed most, so Davos swore to himself that he would do his best to.

 

* * *

 

 

**Eighteen years later**

 

“Davos, I need you.”

“I’m on Steel Street. Where are you, lad?”

Five miles away. The crackling sound from his earpiece wasn’t promising either. His commlink was going. The electromagnetic pulse had done its damage. Plus, he had more immediate concerns.

His head felt fuzzy from the last few blows he’d taken. The stitch in his side as he ran was getting unbearable.

Assessment: He was injured, help was out of reach and there were too many of them.

Solution: He had to get the fuck out of here.

_Yeah, good luck with that._

He climbed out a window onto the fire escape. It was raining and nighttime. He hoped that would aid his escape. Up and up, he climbed.

“Davos!” he tried once more.

The reply was garbled and then silence. The old man would be frantic. He only hoped he’d live long enough to receive the tongue lashing he’d give him for making him worry like this.

_‘Are you trying to send me to an early grave, lad?’_ he’d asked when he’d first told him of his new hobby.

He reached the roof and sprinted across the top but two men were already on his tail. He was running out of rooftop but the next building was not as tall. It was also a good twelve feet away. He turned to face his pursuers, trying to decide if he should risk the jump or attempt to take them down. _And then more of them will show up and you’ll still need to jump._

His suit was resistant to gunfire but not completely bulletproof. Just as he’d made his choice, he felt something like a punch near his armpit. It was no punch. He made the jump but missed his footing as he landed. He stifled a yelp of pain. He had to keep going.

None of them were foolish enough to jump after him but they had men on the ground and radios. He was being hunted down. _Like the animal you are_. And just like any animal, he did not want to be captured.

Taking what Davos would surely call a foolish risk, he jumped from that roof to the fire escape of another. His ankle howled in agony but he did not fall. He entered through a fortuitously open window, quiet as a shadow, and hurried down the stairwell to the exit. On the street, he didn’t see anyone and the parked cars showed no signs of occupants. The rain was pouring down and it was after midnight. No one was out taking a stroll. No one but thugs and a fool in a wolf mask.

He limped along a few blocks, losing blood from his wound as his head continued to feel swimmy and wondering where he could try to safely contact Davos again. The buildings were nicer here and he saw a lone figure darting down the street towards him under a red umbrella, a woman.

She opened her mouth to scream when he abruptly stopped her and he quickly covered it with his gloved hand.

“Please…I won’t hurt you,” he promised, releasing her again.

He was losing consciousness. He sank to his knees on the sidewalk and looked up at her. She was illuminated by the streetlamps despite the rain. Red umbrella, red hair, red lips…but an angel’s face with eyes that would rival the blue seas around the Summer Isles.

“Are you injured? I’ll call an ambulance.”

“No…no, please. I need Davos,” he said faintly.

“Can you tell me your name?”

“No one can know. Please…”

He couldn’t even say for certain if he’d spoken the words or not. Maybe he’d just imagined them.

“What’s your name?” the angel asked again.

_Jon_ , he thought but never said it. Everything faded to black.

 

* * *

 

 

  
Dr. Sansa Stark dug through her hall closet looking for the overstuffed box of supplies Osha had prepared at the hospital for her when Rickon had broken his wrist and collar bone five months ago skateboarding. She sighed with relief when she found it and quickly returned to her bedroom. The rest of her instruments were already waiting.

“You should’ve just called an ambulance…and the police,” she muttered to herself. But she hadn’t.

A stranger was lying in her bed but there was no question of who he was. The man who had been wearing a wolf’s mask and dressed head to toe in a black suit made of neoprene, Kevlar and other fabrics she couldn’t readily identify could be none other than Night Wolf. He’d been all the talk of Kings Landing since he’d brought his vigilante justice to town nearly a year ago. Eight months ago some lucky pap had managed to snap a picture of him and the paper had dubbed him with the pseudonym.

Sansa had followed his career more closely than she’d care to admit. His tactics were illegal obviously but he was achieving results when it came to cleaning up the streets. However, the authorities wouldn’t see it that way. Wanted by the police and criminals alike, he was here in her apartment…and only wearing his boxer briefs at the moment.

“Holy shit, this is so awesome.”

“Rickon, put that down!” she snapped.

Rickon put down the star-shaped knife-like thingies that were designed for the gods only knew what. _Hurting people anyway._

Her brother had moved down here six months ago to attend college. Their mother worried about her baby leaving the nest and had asked Sansa to watch over him which she’d gladly done. Rickon had found he didn’t mind hanging out with her either. He often split his time between his cramped dormitory and ramen noodle dinners and his big sister’s far more spacious place and fully stocked pantry and fridge. It was fortunate he’d been staying over tonight. She would never have managed to drag an unconscious man up to her apartment alone.

Her patient began to groan and stir.

“You’re safe. Be still for me, okay? You’re going to be alright but I need to treat...”

Dark grey eyes opened and she gasped, momentarily forgetting her standard routine when dealing with a patient regaining consciousness.

Within seconds, her initial recognition turned to certainty. Sansa now knew something else about her patient, something the rest of Kings Landing was dying to know. She knew Night Wolf’s true identity.

Jon Snow’s face had been in the papers often enough over the past sixteen months since she’d graduated from medical school and moved to Kings Landing. The illegitimate son of tycoon industrialist Rhaegar Targaryen, he’d inherited his father’s fortune after Rhaegar, his wife and Jon’s step-siblings had been murdered in cold blood by the Lannister Crime Family ten years earlier. He’d reportedly left college after their deaths and fallen off the grid for several years before turning back up in the capital shortly after Sansa had moved there.

_Not too long before the Night Wolf sightings began._

Just like his alter ego, Jon Snow was a bit of a mystery to the local papers, acting like the eccentric recluse at times and behaving like a rich playboy at others. But he’d made some changes at the company he’d inherited since his return, changes for the better from what Sansa had heard, so perhaps he was trying to grow up at last and be a productive member of society, a thirty-year-old man trying to follow in his father’s footsteps maybe.

_Or maybe not_ , Sansa thought wryly considering his nocturnal activities.

Whatever his motivations were for dressing up in a suit and mask and fighting bad guys at night, there was clearly more to Jon Snow than met the eye. He was also ludicrously good-looking even after everything he’d been through tonight.

“Hey, Angel,” he said dazedly.

“Hey,” she answered, wondering why he’d called her that and why it made her blush. She couldn’t seem to think of another thing to say either.

She could see him trying to put the pieces together. He was wincing from the pain but smiling, too. “You didn’t call the cops on me, huh?”

She shook her head. She needed to focus on treating him and not the way his eyes crinkled up at the corners when he smiled or the silly little flutter that caused.

“Are these some sort of super badass handcuffs?” Rickon asked, holding up something else from the heavy utility belt her patient had been wearing. “Where’s your cape?”

“Didn’t you see ‘The Incredibles?’ No capes,” Jon Snow said. His dazed tone worried her but at least he was capable of joking.

Her brother laughed.

“Rickon, leave his things alone,” she huffed, secretly glad he’d spoken and drawn her away from those ridiculous daydreams she’d entertained a time or two when she’d read stories about the Night Wolf. “I’m sorry. This is my brother Rickon and I’m Sansa Stark.”

“I’m…I’m Jon.”

“You know your name then. That’s a good sign. I need to assess you for a concussion and take a look at that ankle but first…the GSW.”

He glanced at the instruments and medical supplies she’d arranged by the bed. “You’re a doctor.”

“I am.”

“Lucky me.”

“We’ll see about that. I’ve given you a mild pain reliever but I’m sorry to say it’s all I have here so unless you want to reconsider me calling for that ambulance…”

“You’re saying it might smart a bit.”

“You could say that. Rickon, bring the lamp closer.” She gloved up and picked up her scalpel. “Are you sure about this?”

His eyes widened slightly before he adopted a look of utmost fortitude. “I’m all yours, Dr. Stark.”

_Well, wasn’t that an interesting proposition?_

 

* * *

 

 

 

He’d done his best to put on a brave front but she wasn’t fooled and soon he was hurting too damned much to keep pretending. Not that she was trying to hurt him, but someone digging a bullet out of your armpit was always going to hurt like hell regardless of skill. He’d wound up chewing on one of her bed’s accent pillows and was wringing wet with sweat by the time she started stitching him up. She was cool as a cucumber. At least for the sake of his ego, he could say her brother had looked ready to faint once or twice, too.

“Rickon, you can go on to bed. I’ve got it from here.”

“But, Sansa…he’s the…”

“No buts, to bed. You’ve got early class in the morning and it’s a forty minute commute from here,” she finished firmly before returning her attention to him.

“I’m not ten,” her brother grumbled.

“Then, don’t act like it,” she snipped back as he tromped from her bedroom. Jon had to bite his lip to keep from chuckling. That would hurt too much right now. “Sorry. Little brothers,” she said, rolling her eyes in a way that conveyed both frustration and affection. “I’m going to give you a sedative to help you sleep.”

_In your bed?_ “I can’t impose on your…”

“You can and you will. You’re not going anywhere so soon after I’ve stitched you up.” She was intelligent and kind but maybe a little bossy. He liked it. She was also gentle as a lamb when she examined his tweaked ankle. Her hair was dry now, a soft auburn curtain framing that angelic face. He liked that, too. “No break I’d wager though you’d need an x-ray to be sure. I’d say a few days rest should see you capable of normal exercise.” He had to chuckle at the way she emphasized normal. He immediately regretted it. “Ribs?”

“Not sure.”

Next thing he knew, Dr. Stark’s hands were on his bare chest. She wore no wedding band or any rings at all. “I’ll write you a script for antibiotics and something for the pain but you’ll need to see a doctor you trust to keep tabs on the healing.”

“I trust you.” Where had that come from? He didn’t really know her.

“You don’t know me.” She was smiling though.

_I’d like to know you better_. “I know your name and I know you’re a doctor.” He glanced around the room, taking in the décor. “And you like the colors blue and yellow.”

“Blue is calming.”

“And the yellow?”

“It’s cheerful.”

“So are the daisies,” he said, noticing the vase on her dresser. “Are they your favorite flowers?” _Who gave them to you?_

She didn’t answer the question, not the spoken one or the other. “Sounds like your vision’s alright. Speaking of that though, I need you to follow my light with your eyes, please.”

She was shining a pen light in his eyes and started asking him the date and what he had for breakfast before having him repeat a series of words for her. He passed with flying colors.

“I’ll observe you tonight but I’d like for you to get a CAT scan tomorrow to be certain.”

“Can you do it?”

“No, I’m afraid the apartment didn’t come with one of those.” He started to laugh again at her humor and at his own stupid question. “Sorry, don’t laugh. I…I work at Aemon Targaryen Memorial. I suppose you know where it is. He was your great uncle or something, right?”

He grimaced. She knew who he was. “Great-great-great uncle, I think. I’m a little foggy on that side of the family tree.”

She worried at her bottom lip. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to raise a sore subject or cause any pain.”

“No, it’s…I owe you so much, Dr. Stark. I don’t want to be a bother either. I’ll…” He attempted to rise. Big mistake. “I need to call Davos.”

“Who’s Davos?”

“My babysitter.” She laughed and he liked that sound a lot. “No, he’s kind of like my…” _Dad_. “He works for me.”

“Okay. You can borrow my phone and call Dadvos.”

“Davos,” he corrected.

“I heard you,” she smirked.

She was gorgeous, intelligent and witty. Why’d he have to be laid up like this when he met her?

_Because you never would’ve met her otherwise._

It was true. He’d dated a few starlets and models for his cover like Davos had suggested but there’d been nothing there. Those women were easy enough to find. He’d call them up and ask if they wished to attend a fundraiser or premier with him and they’d always say yes. They would probably say yes to just about anything he asked he supposed but they’d only been interested in him for the fortune he’d inherited. Those women would never be someone with whom he could share his true self. But a woman like Dr. Stark…like Sansa…she was something else entirely.

She offered her phone and withdrew to her bathroom with her instruments and the bloody sterile pads and bandages she’d used.

“Davos?”

“Gods, I’ve been out of my mind! Where are you?!”

“I’m sorry. I’m safe and I’m alright. Well, I’m going to be alright. I was injured but I’ve…” She was walking back in, carrying a basin and a wash cloth. “I made a friend tonight.”

 

* * *

 

 

  
Sansa sat down on the bed beside him, smiling that he’d called her a friend and that he’d said he trusted her earlier. After a few more reassurances from himself, he asked her to give Davos her address so he could come pick him up tomorrow morning.

Mr. Seaworth seemed like much more than an employee based on the way Jon had been so eager to assure him and the way the man himself quizzed her thoroughly about Jon’s injuries.

She did not miss the way Jon’s lips repeated her address either as she said it. Was he planning to pay her another call sometime? What had she gotten herself into tonight? And did she mind? No.

Once that was handled, she gave him the promised sedative. It wasn’t long till he was looking very drowsy as she rung out the wash cloth and gave him a sponge bath.

“Isn’t this a nurse’s job?” he asked, his words slightly slurred.

“Maybe but my mother’s a nurse and I wouldn’t dream of acting as if I’m too good to do anything she’d do. It was my parents who inspired me to pursue a career in medicine.”

“Is your father a doctor?”

“No, a cop.”

He seemed to find a good deal of amusement in that. “Guess you shouldn’t bring any criminals home for dinner then.”

“Nope.” _Well, maybe one. Dad would probably like what you stand for even if he didn’t care for your methods._

He was quiet as she finished up. She was brushing the curls back from his face and thought he might be falling asleep when he spoke again. “My mom was a nurse, too.”

“I didn’t know that.”

“Not many people do. Everyone always talks about him, like he was the greatest thing since sliced bread just because he made a ton of money but…she was a better person than him in every way.” There was a lot of bitterness behind those words but they were practically strangers, weren’t they? She wasn’t sure what to say. His eyes were getting heavy. “I’m sorry, Dr. Stark. I’m just…”

“You can call me Sansa, Jon.”

“Thank you, Sansa,” he murmured as his eyes fluttered closed again.

She resolved to watch him through the night. Concussions could be tricky business and she didn’t like not being able to get a CT. But she’d already worked twelve hours and then had a very busy night since Jon had approached her outside her building on top of having no dinner.

_It’s a big bed_ , she told herself. _I’ll just lie down and watch him this way. It’ll be more comfortable._

Within minutes, she was asleep.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rickon tries out his Protective Brother Glare of Death. Jon tries his hand at poetry. It's pretty awful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for all the lovely comments on the first chapter! I was blown away :)

 

“Wakey, wakey, hands off Snakey.”

The voice was unfamiliar and hostile sounding. This didn’t feel like his bed either. It was too bright in here.

Memory returned and Jon’s eyes popped open just as a pillow was thrown in his face. The whole bed shook like a minor earthquake when Sansa hurriedly sat up causing every muscle in his body to wail in protest.

“Ow.”

“Rickon! What are you doing?”

_Passing judgment apparently._

The kid was standing right next to the bed with his arms crossed and scowling down at him. He was skinny but tall. It also hurt trying to crane his neck to look up at him.

“Fuck, I’m sore,” he grumbled.

“His valet’s here,” the kid told his sister while his eyes were still boring into Jon’s head.

“Davos?”

“The T is silent, Rickon.”

“Fine. Davos, the _valet_ is here.”

“He’s actually my butler.”

“Well, la-di-da.”

Jon chuckled. He liked this kid. He also thought he understood what that scowl was all about but surely, he didn’t really believe Night Wolf had managed to have his way with his sister after being shot and getting his ass kicked last night. He was in his underwear and she’d changed out of her doctor’s scrubs but she was wearing Bugs Bunny pajamas which (sadly) covered her from the neck down.

_What’s up, Doc? Did you know you’re not only gorgeous but freaking adorable in those?_

Being the outsider, he figured it’d be best in this instance to let Sansa handle her brother. Besides, nothing had happened other than them sharing a bed and sleeping.

_Well, something kind of happened._

Jon hadn’t slept like complete shit but he had woke up a few times. Sansa had checked on him at one point to ‘assess’ him. Then, he’d woke up an hour later to find her lying beside him. She’d been curled up on her side turned away from him but the next time he’d woke up, she’d been facing him. Her hair had been covering her face. She’d left the bathroom light on and, when he’d carefully brushed her hair back out of the way, he’d spent a good while staring at her and listening to the peaceful sound of her breathing in and out.

_You know my secret, Angel. Can you keep it? Do you want to know some more? Why do I get the feeling I’d tell you anything if you asked?_

Sansa got out of bed, her cheeks already turning pink as she asked Rickon to start some coffee and offer some to Mr. Seaworth.

“He can get some when they leave. His boss might like half-caff latte or some shit like that.”

“I only drink black.”

“Rickon…”

“I’ve got to leave for class soon.”

“Davos and I can give you a ride. It’d be much faster than taking the El,” Jon offered without even thinking about it.

“Gee, that’d be swell, Mr. Wolfman. Could I have your autograph, too? I’ll bet my classmates would all be impressed by your fancy limo, right?”

“Rickon, please.”

“Sure, Sansa. I’ll give you two your moment to say good-bye.”

Now, Jon was scowling. Sansa’s face was bright red and he thought maybe her kid brother needed a lesson in manners.

“I’m sorry. I’ve not had a man over when he’s, uh…I think this is his idea of being protective. I’ll say something to him. I apologize if he…”

“No, don’t apologize. I’m sorry that my being here caused friction. I’m sorry if he embarrassed you. I really appreciate everything you did for me last night.”

“Anyone would’ve done the same,” she shrugged.

 _I don’t think so_. “Anyone would’ve performed surgery in their bedroom on a complete stranger wearing a wolf mask?”

She shook her head and was biting her lip to keep from laughing. Sansa Stark had lovely white teeth and incredibly soft-looking pink lips. Just as quickly though, the professionalism returned. “How’s your pain?”

“Could be worse.” She raised her eyebrows. “It hurts…a lot.”

She opened the drawer of her nightstand and pulled out a pad of paper and started scribbling. “For pain and also antibiotics. Get them filled on your way home and take them as directed.”

“Yes, doctor.”

Then, she brought him a couple of pills from the bathroom and some water before checking his shoulder. Jon probably shouldn’t like laying here so much as she changed his dressings. He probably shouldn’t focus on how much he liked her hands on him either. Just like last night, her motions displayed competence and confidence but her touch was also gentle.

“When I treat someone for injuries, I like to think they’ll do everything they can to avoid getting hurt again afterwards,” she said quietly, her eyes never leaving his shoulder as she finished with the new dressings.

“It’d be annoying to have to treat them for the same thing, wouldn’t it?” She glanced at him with an imploring look. “I’d hate to disappoint someone like you.” She smiled wanly and looked back down. It was a sad sort of evasion but he couldn’t promise her either. “How much do I owe you for your excellent care, Dr. Stark?” he asked next in a tone he hoped she’d recognize as teasing.

“I can’t exactly charge your health insurance provider, can I?” She put her hands on his ankle. “Swelling’s not too bad this morning.” She shyly glanced up at him from beneath her lashes. “There’s no charge.”

“How about dinner as payment then?”

“Well, in that case…I’ll send you my bill,” she replied with a mischievous grin. He liked it. She was teasing him back. Gods, he hoped she was and wouldn’t think he was a pushy ass for what he was about to do.

His throat bobbed with nerves as he kept eye contact with her. He sucked at this. He especially sucked at this when it came to asking a woman whose answer truly mattered to him. His palms felt sweaty and he licked his lips. He had no business asking, no business getting involved with someone when he willingly risked his life every time he put on the mask. It didn’t seem to be stopping him.

“Sansa…”

There was a loud knock on the bedroom door preventing him from getting to ask in seriousness this time and leaving what her answer might’ve been a mystery to him. He wondered if Rickon Stark had returned to kick him out of his sister’s bedroom.

“Are you alive in there, lad?”

 _Davos, thank the gods. Also, your timing really sucks_. “Hang on!”

Sansa broke eye contact after he spoke. She was fiddling with her hair. “I should go change and see if Rickon ever started that coffee.”

“Of course. I’ll get up and…do you have a guest bathroom?”

“Yes. Through the living room and to the right. You need to have that bandage covered before you shower.”

“I can wait for that then.”

“And see your physician today,” she added firmly.

 _Will you scold me if I don’t? And why do I think I’d like it if you did?_ “I will. I promise.”

“Do you need any help getting up?”

“No, I can manage.”

“Rickon keeps some spare clothes here. He can show you where to find them.”

“Thanks.”

He waited till her bathroom door had closed before he attempted to rise. Suppressing a pitiful whimper, he sat up gingerly and looked out her bedroom window. From where he was sitting, he figured they were on the 4th floor. He wasn’t sure how he felt about making the walk across the room, let alone back down to the street. _Nothing for it though. Can’t stay here forever._

He opened the door to find his faithful friend waiting with a gym bag and an unusually cheerful smile on his face. He could hear cabinets opening and closing and thought he might even smell coffee. Obviously, Rickon hadn’t jetted yet.

Davos’ arms opened for a moment almost like he was going to hug him until he saw the bandage on his shoulder and the bruising. “Rough round of jai alai last night, sir?”

“Something like that,” he grinned.

“Brought you some clothes.”

“Thank you.” Rickon’s spare clothes would’ve served but he’d feel better in his own.

“Where’s the good doctor?” Jon jerked his chin towards the bathroom behind him. “Ah. She as pretty as she sounds?”

“How could you possibly form an opinion of her physical appearance based on her voice, Davos?”

“I was referring to the way you sounded when you were talking about her last night.” Jon rolled his eyes at the old man’s attempt to goad him over Sansa. “You planning on showering?” he asked next with his nose wrinkling up.

“Nope, just getting dressed.”

“The young lady’s brother muttered something about coffee when he came back out. Are we staying for breakfast?”

He hadn’t thought about it but he sure as hell liked the sound of that. He grasped Davos’ wrist to check the time. “Hey, Rickon. What time’s your class?”

“8:30,” came the sullen reply from the kitchen.

Excellent. “I suppose we might impose for just a bit longer. Dr. Stark might have some final discharge instructions for me after all.”

Davos smirked at him in an infuriatingly knowing manner.

 

* * *

 

 

  
It had been cool when Sansa had texted him to come downstairs last night and help her with a package and that package had turned out to be none other than Night Wolf.

Rickon had only been in Kings Landing six months but he’d already heard of the mysterious superhero in the wolf mask. He’d scoured all the articles and stuff online he could find about the guy. Crimefighter operating outside the law. A loner with no superpowers, just his wits, hand to hand combat skills and trusty utility belt to aid him. He probably operated out of some underground lair. It’d be called the Wolf Den or something cool like that. He was clearly awesome. And the fact he’d been hurt while out doing his dare-doing and his big sister had helped him was really fucking cool.

But when he’d woke up this morning to some old guy dressed in a suit knocking on the door and asking for Master Snow, he’d been kind of shocked. And then, he’d walked in to find the wolf guy still in his underwear in bed with Sansa. He’d read lots of comics and the heroes he liked didn’t sleep with the girl who helped him out on the night they met.

Plus, he’d got a gander at the limo sitting down on the street. The only person he knew who rode around in one of those was Shireen’s dad and, while he was certainly intimidating as all seven hells, Mayor Baratheon wasn’t what Rickon would describe as cool. And if Night Wolf had a limo, he wasn’t just some crime-fighter from the mean streets. He was loaded. Rickon worried he might be a complete prick…just like the last rich guy Sansa had dated.

He hadn’t wanted to accept the ride to class but it would be faster than catching the El. Also, staying to catch a ride with Night Wolf and his chauffer ( _excuse me…butler_ ) meant he got to eat breakfast at Sansa’s which was way better than the commissary on campus.

Rickon tried to get comfortable sitting across from the guy as the limo pulled away from Sansa’s building. Night Wolf had changed into a dress shirt, slacks and loafers. He was even wearing a loosely-knotted tie like Dad might. Really kind of a let down compared to his nocturnal get-up. Rickon folded his arms across his chest and decided to keep his mouth shut.

“Look, I didn’t sleep with your sister or anything,” the object of his ire said as the silence stretched on. “Not that it’s your business. Your sister’s an adult and can do whatever she likes. I’m just telling you in case there was a misunderstanding earlier.”

“So, you’re telling me there was no sleeping?”

“Yes. I mean, no! Yes, there was sleeping! I slept in the bed beside her. Nothing else happened, okay?” He ran his hands through his hair. The guy had a lot a hair, like a male model or something. Rickon didn’t like it. “Rickon, I wouldn’t dream of trying anything with your sister.”

“Good,” Rickon huffed. “Wait. Why not?” He didn’t want to think about Sansa and guys but then again, what was wrong with Sansa?

“Um…maybe I need to clarify what I mean by trying anything. I meant…shit, this is awkward.”

Rickon rolled his eyes. “I’m eighteen. I have a girlfriend. Well, she’s sort of a…she’s a girl who’s a friend but we might become…ah, fuck. I don’t need you to explain the birds and bees, alright?! Gods!”

Night Wolf looked as horrified by that idea as Rickon was. “Okay, your sister is gorgeous and of course I’d love to date a woman like her but I wouldn’t try and take advantage of her or anything.” He grimaced. “Does that sound better or worse?”

“Better actually.”

“Okay then. Sooooo…can you cut the Glare of Death act? I think you managed to make everyone extremely uncomfortable at breakfast on top of embarrassing your sister.”

“I…” He hadn’t thought of it quite like that. He hadn’t meant to upset or embarrass Sansa. “Just a sec.” He pulled out his phone and texted an apology to Sansa. “Okay, I’ll cut the act.”

“Thank you.”

“So, your name is really Jon?”

“Yes, Jon Snow.” He said it like that was supposed to mean something.

“Sounds made up.”

“It’s not, I swear,” he laughed.

“How’d you become Night Wolf? And do you have a day job or something?”

“The first answer is a long story. The second answer is yes but I’m not sure I’m all that good at it.”

“Well, I bet you’re not getting shot or your ass kicked there at least.”

“Very true,” he chuckled. “Listen, Rickon. I’m sort of on the run from the cops as well as criminals and keeping my true identity secret is…”

“Oh, yeah! Of course, you’ve got to keep you true identity a secret!” Nearly every superhero had an alter ego and it was paramount that the two identities remain separate. “It could endanger the lives of your loved ones as well as yourself, right?” Jon looked kind of sad when he said that. He wondered if there were any loved ones besides Mr. Seaworth the butler. “I’m sorry. I guess people don’t start doing what you do just for kicks, huh?”

“No. Not me anyway.”

They rode along pretty companionably after that and Rickon decided that maybe Jon Snow aka Night Wolf was alright after all. Plus, he was rich, had a day job and all kinds of cool tech stuff on that utility belt of his.

 _Maybe he needs a sidekick_.

So, just to show what a good sport he could be, Rickon might have mentioned that his sister was currently single, liked sappy movies, romance novels and flowers.

Jon tried to suppress his smile when he asked but he totally failed. “Um…what kind of flowers does she like best?”

 

* * *

 

 

  
“Good morning, Dr. Stark. Did you have a good night?”

 _It was certainly interesting. Was it good though?_   Sansa smiled privately to herself, knowing the answer. “Yes, Randa. Thank you. Did you?”

The morning pleasantries dispensed with, Sansa headed down the hall, rolling her neck and trying to ignore how tired she was. She’d slept but she couldn’t say it’d been entirely restful. She’d kept waking to check on him while trying not to disturb him. He’d looked fitful at some points and peaceful at others. At last, she’d sunk into a deeper sleep and dreamed of those grey eyes starting back at her. His lips were pouty and kissable, too.

_Gods, stop right there._

Then, this morning she’d woke up in bed with Jon next to her and her brother glaring at him. Rickon, sweet brother that he was, had texted an apology for his behavior at breakfast and later texted again to ask if she liked roses or not.

_Who doesn’t?_

She had a hard time imagining Rickon bringing her flowers though. He’d brought her a handful of dandelions as a child once along with a can of worms he’d collected and asked if they could keep as pets. And if he was going to spend his meager funds on flowers, she’d rather he buy them for Shireen.

She struggled to focus on her rounds as the night played through her head from the moment a stranger had approached her in the rain until he’d left this morning with her brother and Mr. Seaworth. The rain had stopped during the night and the sun had come out but as her day wore on, her good cheer left her. She’d treated his injuries and promised not to tell his secret. She’d laid beside him in the night but nothing had happened there. He was fascinating and funny and handsome…and probably in over his head with his hobby. She didn’t believe he planned on giving that hobby up either. There was a very good chance she’d never see him again.

During lunch, she skimmed the headlines on her phone about the mayor’s pledge to bring true justice back to Kings Landing including his promise to rid them of any vigilantes wearing costumes or religious zealots claiming the corrupt city should be ‘cleansed’ by R’hllor, the Lord of Light, and decided to hunt for articles about Jon Snow.

She scrolled past the business related ones but read the ones about what had happened to his family. It was horrible and only depressed her spirits further. Then, she searched the society page stuff. There were pictures of him with at least a dozen different beautiful women at various functions the past year, never the same girl twice.

She traced his smile in one picture with her finger. He had a very lovely smile. She was being silly. She sighed and put her phone away.

She was just a stranger who had helped him last night. He could’ve run into anyone. He was just fortunate in who he’d found. He’d offered dinner this morning but his tone had been light and she’d given a light-hearted reply. He hadn’t repeated the offer even when she’d started to hope he would.

 _Getting involved with a man like him would be a huge mistake,_ her rational self said _. Look at Harry. He was rich, a businessman and social butterfly. And what did he bring you? Diamonds and heart ache._

Jon didn’t seem much like Harry in person though. Harry would never don a mask and fight criminals at night for one thing.

_Yes, and what heart ache might that bring you? What if you fell for a guy like that who on any given morning might never come home again?_

She closed her eyes, afraid of the answer. Even if he was interested, which she by no means was sure of, dating someone like Jon would take a lot of courage.

_I’m brave._

_How brave?_

“Sansa?” Randa had popped her head into the lounge.

“Sorry. I was just…did you need me?”

“There’s a delivery at the admittance desk for you.”

“A delivery?”

Randa gave her a strange smile and Sansa threw her stethoscope back around her neck. The other female nurses and two interns were standing around the desk, giggling like school girls as she approached. They all scattered when they saw her coming.

The bouquet was exquisite…and far too large for her locker. The cut-crystal vase was divine. Her face grew hot. Even her ears were hot. There was a note.

 

_Roses are red (though these are yellow)_

_Violets are blue (I prefer forget-me-nots, don’t you?)_

_I am clearly no poet_

_But may I have dinner with you?_

_(Technically, I should have written ‘would you have dinner with me?’ but that wouldn’t rhyme.)_

_Your very grateful patient,_

_Jon_

 

She was grinning at the flowers and his lame but very sweet note when he spoke, causing her to jump.

“I find blue and yellow pleasing, too.”

He was standing right behind her. His cologne was light but intoxicating and he looked damn good in his suit. His grey eyes were just as smoldering under the florescent hospital lights as they had been in her bedroom last night.

“Where-what brings you here?”

“I promised to see my doctor today.” She beamed at him before she could help herself. “Yellow roses symbolize friendship and caring. Daisies are for cheerfulness.”

“And the forget-me-nots?”

He stepped closer and there was that hesitant, almost shy look she’d seen this morning. “Well, I…I hoped maybe you wouldn’t forget me. I won’t be forgetting you.” They also symbolized love though she didn’t know if he knew that. Her breath hitched and she may have swayed slightly. “Despite my admittedly awful poem, I do hope you’ll consider having dinner with me.”

Her heart was pounding frightfully. He swallowed hard as he stared at her. Everyone nearby was watching the exchange eagerly, she knew but she only had eyes for Jon. She drew a deep breath and told that rational little voice from earlier to shut the hell up.

“I’d love to.”

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Date night.

 

“Which car will be we taking tonight, sir?”

“The Impala.”

Not the limo, not the Jag or the luxury SUV and not the Lamborghini. And definitely not the motorcycle he’d driven the other night for his little escapade which was currently in a thousand and one pieces. Davos liked that it was off the table for the moment at least.

The 1960 Chevy Impala Convertible. His mother had owned one which had been in a sorry state when she’d died. Jon had found this one and spent hours restoring it after he’d finally returned from his rather irregular sabbatical.

“And _I’ll_ be driving it,” Jon added as he finished buttoning his shirt and reached for a tie.

No driver then. The shoulder was healing, the ankle was better and he’d managed to avoid a concussion. Still, Davos didn’t like it. “Drive safely, sir.”

“When don’t I?” he scowled as he started fussing with the tie.

Davos knew he’d be more comfortable without it. Jon could dress to look the part but suits and ties would never really be him. However, he was keen on making a good impression with the young lady. She was breathtakingly lovely as well as intelligent and witty. And although she might not be from high society or an heiress, she was clearly every inch a lady.

Davos didn’t think Jon needed to fret overly much. Based on the looks that had passed between the pair of them at breakfast the other morning, he thought the only thing Jon needed to focus on was just being himself if he wanted to win her affections.

_Let her know you, not the playboy that the tabloids make you out to be and not the reclusive billionaire you act like for everyone else. Let her see the man you are inside and that good heart you try so hard to protect from the world._

“When don’t you drive safely? Oh, how about every time you get behind the wheel of an automobile since you were fifteen and asked me to teach you?”

“I didn’t drive too fast that first lesson. I was too terrified.”

“True. And by lesson #2, you thought you knew it all.”

“You’re probably right,” he said with that self-deprecating shrug Davos knew so well.

“Of course, I am. You still think you know it all,” he joked.

His smile faltered just as Davos had decided to intervene with the knot he was making a travesty of. “I don’t. I don’t think I know anything some days.”

He didn’t like Jon’s hobby, as he called it, very much. It was dangerous and reckless and Davos got heart palpitations just thinking of the risks he was running but he understood why Jon did it. And though they might engage in banter and bickering, he never wanted to hurt him.

He patted his shoulder kindly and wanted to take the sting from his words. “It’s alright, sir. We all feel like that some days and I’d say you know plenty of things. Where are you taking Dr. Stark tonight? Or am I crossing some line and guilty of impertinence?”

“There’s no such line for us, Davos.” His eyes were so sincere as he raised them to meet his. He couldn’t have loved any son of his flesh more than he loved this one.

“I know, lad. And you’re done,” he said as he finished with the tie.

“I’m taking Sansa to that new place on Visenya’s Hill for dinner.”

“Oh, yes? Very posh,” he said in an even tone he’d used before.

Jon knew the tone very well. “Is it _too_ posh?”

_Yes_.

Knowing how nervous he got around ladies, he figured Jon had probably blurted out the first place that came to mind when she’d accepted his invitation to dinner a few days ago. And Davos would be willing to bet a year’s salary he’d spent every free second since then internally questioning his suggestion.

“Hmm. Well, it’s sure to make an impression but what impression did you wish to make?”

“I…” Jon’s brow furrowed. “I like her Davos. I like her very much. I want to get to know her better and for us to feel at ease. I want to give her the chance to get to know me if she’d like to.”

“And will a one hundred dragon dinner help you achieve that?”

“No.”

“The press is rather fond of lurking about at hot spots like that.”

Jon grimaced. He didn’t like the way the paps were always speculating about every girl he took out. He’d likely be enraged if Sansa’s picture wound up in the tabloids and they started labeling her Jon Snow’s latest conquest.

“Everything her brother said supported my impression that she’d like to be romanced and a fancy dinner is the best I could come up with? Gods, I’m awful at this!”

“The flowers and poem were lovely.”

Jon rolled his eyes and yanked off his tie. “The flowers were anyway.”

“I’ll bet she enjoyed the gesture of the poem.”

“Even if the poet is pathetic.” But he was soon smiling again as he pulled out his phone.

“Change of plans, sir?”

“You could say that.”

“Still planning to drive?”

“Yes.”

“It’s supposed to rain later.”

“I’ll keep the top up. And, Davos?”

“Yes, sir?”

“Don’t wait up.”

 

* * *

 

 

 

"Come on up!” Sansa called into the intercom as she answered the buzz from below.

She’d been delayed leaving work and she wasn’t quite ready but she didn’t think Jon would mind. The mysterious request to change their plans didn’t annoy her in the slightest. A stuffy dinner at some pretentious restaurant held little appeal after the day she’d had.

She rushed to the bathroom to check her hair and apply a final swipe of lipstick before grabbing her clutch and yellow rain jacket. She was hopping on one foot to get her shoe on as she went to unlatch her door. She yelped when she discovered he was already standing there looking more devilishly handsome than should be allowed in a black button-down and grey trousers.

“That was fast!”

His eyes widened before he gave her a reticent smile. “The elevator was slow. I took the stairs.”

“Four flights? Ankle all better then?”

“All better.” She leaned past him to peer out into the hallway. “Were you expecting someone else?” he frowned.

“No, just looking to see where you left your jetpack.”

He grinned. His grins weren’t doing her sanity any favors. “No jetpack but I’m quick.”

“A quick healer, too. Come on in.”

She walked back towards the living room where she’d left her purse and jacket. When she glanced over her shoulder, he was several paces behind and obviously checking her out.

She turned to face him. “See something you like?”

He bit his bottom lip in chagrin but those grey eyes flashed with mischief like he was accepting a challenge. Maybe it was a challenge of sorts.

“It’s a very pretty dress. You got my text though, right?”

“I responded to it, didn’t I? I decided to stick with the dress because I spent far too much on it for it to sit in my closet. Pretty dresses deserve a night out once in a while, don’t they?”

With an asymmetrical hemline and cap sleeves, the white wrap dress with a delicate blue and green floral pattern was a floaty chiffon and silk confection she’d not had a chance to wear anywhere outside of the dressing room at the store.

She gave a twirl for emphasis. What had gotten into her?

“That dress definitely deserves a night out. I’m just worrying that maybe I shouldn’t have changed our plans now. I wouldn’t want to disappoint such a pretty dress.” He said it casually but underneath she could sense the vulnerability.

_Oh, dear._ She was something of sucker for a little vulnerability in a man, especially if he tried to hide it. Jon Snow, the so-called billionaire playboy and secret superhero, was worried she’d be disappointed by the plans he’d made. It only sealed her determination to love everything they did tonight.

“The lady in the pretty dress last ate ten hours ago and is now famished so as long as your plans still include dinner, I’m game.”

The grin returned and he offered his arm. “Then, by all means, let’s go eat.”

 

* * *

 

 

  
If anyone had asked Sansa where she thought Jon might take her tonight, never in a thousand years would she have guessed a little diner on the Street of Flour, a stone’s throw from Flea Bottom. But while some might’ve called Hobb’s a greasy spoon at first glance, they would surely beg the owner’s pardon as soon as they tasted the delicious food.

Certainly, the place wasn’t frequented by all that many billionaires but Jon Snow had already shown himself to be anything but the typical billionaire. Sansa liked that.

It was apparent he was curious and more than a little concerned about what she thought though as he offered her the last of the loaded fries they’d ordered for an appetizer.

“My dress might be wanting to go out with some other girl if I eat like this too often,” she said with a satisfied hum as she nibbled on some bacon crumbles and looped a lonely string of cheddar cheese around her finger.

He visibly relaxed. “I highly doubt that and how dare you suggest that lovely dress could be so faithless?”

She popped the cheese in her mouth and earned a smile. She liked seeing those smiles. “My dress can ditch me. I’m going out with these fries again sometime soon.”

He laughed but she didn’t miss the way his mouth fell open when she licked a dab of ranch dressing off her thumb. It made her belly swoop in the nicest way. The whole ride over here had had its share of that swooping sensation and not just because Jon tended to drive too fast. There was a sweetness to Jon she really liked and a hunger in his eyes that made her quivery.

“Here you go, kiddo,” the owner of the place said, laying the rest of their food on the table before he mussed Jon’s hair. Sansa wouldn’t say it but she wanted to get her hands in those curls, too.

“Thanks, Hobb,” Jon replied with a self-consciousness that was quite adorable.

Hobb gave them a wink and headed back behind the counter again.

“Friend of yours?”

“Yeah. Well, my mom’s first but mine, too. I lived in this neighborhood as a kid. Our apartment was just around the corner. My mom worked here before she went to nursing school and she was friends with Hobb, the other employees and all the regulars. She was bringing me in before I could walk so they all knew me. Once I started school, Hobb would let me hang out here in the afternoons if my mom was working. By the time I was ten, he told me he wouldn’t be much help with my school work anymore but he’d give me a milkshake if I promised to do my best at it.”

“That’s sweet.”

“Yeah.” He turned thoughtful. “None of them treated me any different after I went to live with my father.”

_And you liked that._ She could see why. The way some people acted in this city one would think the Targaryens were half-gods or something. Sansa didn’t care for that brand of blind admiration. People were all just people in the end. As a physician and a woman of good sense, she knew it very well.

“Did your father bring you here, too?”

“No.” His mouth clamped shut for a moment and she could tell there were some unhappy memories there. “But Davos would sometimes when I was home from school. And once I learned how to drive and had a car, I came as much as I wanted.”

Abandoning the final few bacon crumbs in favor of her entrée, Sansa picked up her fork and started eating to keep from asking the Million Dragon Question. _Why are you Night Wolf?_

She wondered if he’d read her mind when he started talking. “My father didn’t like me coming here. We didn’t see eye to eye very often.”

“I’m not from here. I’ve seen his picture of course.” Sansa had thought he looked stern, forbidding. “I’ve heard a great deal. What was he like?”

There were different opinions given regarding Rhaegar Targaryen depending on who you asked. A dreamer and innovator. A thief who took the work of his more talented underlings and presented it as his own. A patron of the arts, particularly music. A devoted husband who’d fathered a bastard behind his wife’s back. An advocate for progress but also part of a company which had left its lower-level employees at near poverty wages for decades. An honest businessman…with ties to organized crime.

Jon looked uneasy and Sansa supposed he got asked that quite often. “I’m not a reporter and I’m not a business associate. You can tell me as little or as much as you like or nothing at all. Whatever you share, I promise it’ll never be repeated. I can tell you all about my folks instead if you wish or we can talk about the weather. I was just trying to get an idea of what kind of father he was.”

“Not a very good one.” With that admittance, the hesitancy fell away and he told her plenty.

Even after Jon’s paternity had made headlines, Rhaegar had kept his distance for the most part. This had apparently suited Lyanna Snow just fine even though she’d struggled to support herself and her son on her salary.

“She was afraid to ask for much, afraid he might suddenly decide to take me away from her. I doubt anyone would’ve stopped him.”

“She sounds like she was a very strong woman though.”

“She was.” His eyes dropped to his plate. “She liked helping people. One night when I was eleven, we’d been at my school for a game and were walking home. We saw these two guys hassling a woman, shoving her…threatening her. My mom made me come in here and tell Hobb to call the police but she crossed the street to where they were. She yelled at them and they ran off. She stayed with the woman until the police came and all I could think was she was really brave to do that when she didn’t know if they were armed or anything.”

“It was brave but it could’ve been dangerous.”

“Yeah, I know. She apologized if she’d scared me but said she couldn’t just walk away. I guess I can’t either. There’s a lot of bad in this city, a lot of corruption and a lot of stuff goes unpunished, especially around here where I grew up. There’s good people here too though just trying to live their lives but they’re ignored because they’re not rich and their last names aren’t on any buildings. I just…I can’t close my eyes to it.”

“There are other ways to help people, legal and less dangerous ways.”

“I know and I’m trying to help in those ways where I can but it’s hard getting people’s attitudes to change. My father had a hand in some of that corruption and when I talk some people look for him in me. I’m not him. I’ll never be him even though I’m sorry that they died. When I came back from Essos, I was full of these ideas about ways to fight the criminals, to even the playing field and meet them on their turf and…the wolf is what I became.” He looked up from his plate, his eyes soft and imploring. There was that vulnerability again. “I understand how that might make me less than ideal relationship material.”

Sansa laid her fork down and considered her words carefully. “My father wears a badge because he wants to serve and protect others. My mother is a nurse because she likes taking care of people. I’m a doctor and I like doing both.”

“You’re good at it.”

“I try my best.” She drew a deep breath and decided it was her turn to share. “My last boyfriend was a wealthy, self-centered jerk. The night I broke up with him he told me how he’d stood on his balcony and watched a mugging in the street below. He was complaining about how horrible the crime rate was here and why he’d probably never get his investment out of his flat if he sold it and returned to the Vale. He’d stood there and watched someone being robbed and never so much as lifted a finger to make a phone call. I knew I couldn’t be with someone who could so willfully close their eyes to another person’s trouble that way and I told him as much. It’s him I wouldn’t call ideal relationship material.” She reached across the table to take his hand. “I don’t entirely know how I feel about what you do but I’m here tonight because I want to be, because I’m willing to see where this leads.”

His smile was gentle as he squeezed her hand in return and her heart clenched when he said, “Thank you, Sansa.”

 

* * *

 

 

 

How could this happen so quickly? Was he lost the moment he found her on the sidewalk the other night? Whatever the case, he was falling for this woman in a way he’d never fallen before and he liked it. It frightened him a little but he liked it all the same.

They’d talked and talked for over an hour after Hobb had brought her lemon pie and him black coffee. She’d told him of her home up north in Winterfell. She’d shared more about her parents and other siblings and more about why she’d wanted to be a doctor. They’d shared a laugh over Rickon’s Glare of Death but she’d admitted that she loved having him here.

“After I broke up with Harry, I wondered what I was doing here. Winterfell will always be home to me. If Rickon hadn’t come here for school, I’m not sure I would’ve stayed.”

“Then, I’m really glad Rickon came.” She laughed softly and he would swear she had bewitched him by the way it made his heart glow. He wondered how much this might hurt if he stopped falling long enough to meet the ground. Regardless, for once in his life, it wouldn’t stop him from taking the chance. “Are you ready for Phase Two of this date?” He’d already asked if she was off the next day. He planned on keeping her out as late as she’d allow.

“Definitely.”

He drove them away from the city and into the outskirts of Rosby. The further he got from Kings Landing, the more relaxed he was. It might have been apparent.

“No longer in a hurry?” she teased as they cruised down the highway under the starlight.

He’d put the top down and she’d dug out a scarf from her jacket pocket to wrap around her hair. She looked like some movie star from long ago.

“What do you mean? I’m not in a hurry at all.” _I want all night with you._

“Well, you’re no longer driving at warp speed.”

He chuckled and told himself to mind his speed, internally conceding that Davos was almost always right.

The city had always been his home but it hadn’t felt much like home since his mother had died. When he’d been away at boarding school as a teen and later when he’d spent years traveling in Essos and beyond after the murder of his father, Elia and his half-brother and sister, he’d called Westeros his country but wasn’t sure he’d call Kings Landing his hometown.

Davos was as close to home as Jon would claim and he was grateful for that. But Davos wasn’t Sansa. There was something about her that made Jon want things he thought he’d given up on.

_First things first._

“A drive-in?!” Sansa cried as they rounded the final curve and he pulled into the gravel parking lot.

“Yes, I thought it might be fun. There’s a double feature playing.” Campy sci-fi and then a classic romance.

“We had one of these in Winterfell still operating when I was a kid. It closed just last year.”

Rickon had mentioned the place when they’d talked movies the other day. “Oh? Well, I hope this will bring back good memories.”

Two hours later, they were side by side in his front seat, having drifted closer and closer during the advertisements over the shared bucket of popcorn. He wouldn’t suggest the back seat, much as part of him might like to. The top was down and the place was pretty busy. And while the locale might make him feel a bit like a teenager, they were adults.

Every once in a while Sansa would toss a piece of popcorn at him, giggling whether he caught it or missed. She’d lick the salt off her fingers every so often too making him quietly groan with longing. The windows of the compact beside them were steamed up and the couple on the big screen were sharing an embrace. The temperature had dropped. She shivered and he put his arm around her. The dress was lovely and silky soft. Her skin was even softer.

“Sansa, I…” He leaned forward, hoping.

She put her hand on his chest and he stopped at once, miserable that he’d managed to screw up despite the promising way things had been going.

“You’ve got a piece of popcorn caught here that you missed,” she said with a gleeful lilt in her voice. Maybe he hadn’t screwed up. She plucked it off his chin and popped it in her mouth. Then, she stroked his beard, her voice dropping slightly in an alluring manner when she prompted him to keep talking. “You were saying…”

His palms were sweaty and his stomach was in knots. Considering how many times he’d faced armed bad guys, he wondered how come his heart was pounding harder now than it ever had then. Still, he wouldn’t trade this moment for anything. “I was going to say I want to kiss you.”

“Mmm, I’d hoped that was what you wanted to say.”

This time they both leaned towards each other until their lips touched. Delicate at first, the kiss quickly became more insistent. He ran his fingers through her heavenly hair and pressed his lips against hers harder. They shifted and the bucket of popcorn was dumped in the floor. The warm huff of her laughter fanned across his lips and he wanted that always. He angled his head and she parted her mouth for him to taste her. Salty popcorn and tangy sweet lemon pie, he’d take his oath here and now that he planned to remember the flavor of his first kiss with Sansa till the day he died.

The romantic score from the film swelled as they kissed on and on until a fat raindrop hit the top of his head and then another landed on his neck.

“Shit,” he muttered and they both laughed.

He managed to get the top up before they were drenched but movie night was over. She’d pulled on her yellow rain jacket and between it and her blue eyes all he could think of was sunny skies.

“Would you want to…”

“Yes, take me home,” she breathed.

He gulped and his eyes were probably round as saucers. “I was going to suggest going downtown to a club or…never mind. Your idea’s much better.” Then, he scowled because maybe he was getting ahead of himself. Kissing didn’t necessarily mean anything else was going to happen. It was their first date.

But Sansa was smirking at him and there was that same gleeful lilt from earlier. “When you think about it, we’ve already shared my bed. This time we’ll just be doing less sleeping. Unless, you’d rather go downtown to a club.”

He had _not_ gotten ahead of himself. “No, your plan is the best plan ever and we should definitely act on that.” She laughed and he started the engine. “And, please buckle up.”

“Warp speed, is it?”

“Not quite but close.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We'll hear about an upcoming villain next chapter...after they bang :)
> 
> Thank you for reading!!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been posting this on Thursdays but I'll be busy on the 4th so I hope you'll enjoy this chapter a little early!

 

Sansa had always liked rainy nights. She liked rainy nights indoors at least. She liked sunny days and rainy nights and snow almost any time. But, it had been raining the night they’d met and tonight it was raining again. She’d take that as a sign.

But thunder was rumbling off in the distance. Should she consider that foreboding? Deciding not to let a spring thunderstorm frighten her off, she reminded herself why she was willing to take a chance with him.

Admittedly, she was nervous as he circled the block searching for a place to park. She’d never invited a man home with her on a first date. She wanted him to know that but would it be strange to call attention to it? Would it scare him off if she confessed that she was hoping this would be much more than a one night thing?

“Did you want me to drop you off closer to the door before I park?”

“No, I won’t melt. I’d rather walk with you.”

He pulled up to the curb a block away at last and shut the engine off. She watched him rubbing his hands on his trousers. Was he nervous too? The society pages and revolving door of dates would’ve made her think that impossible but the man she’d spent hours with by now suggested otherwise.

“We’ll get drenched out there,” he said, leaning forward to peer through his windshield as if he were seeking a clue when the deluge might stop.

“I know.” They could talk some more or maybe go back to kissing in the car. That might be lovely. They could see if the rain slacked off but her nerves were already at such a high pitch. She didn’t think she could sit here a minute longer second guessing herself about this. “Come on!”

She opened the door before he could stop her and raced down the sidewalk, shrieking like a child happily caught in the rain. She could just make out his heavier footfalls chasing her and his own deep laughter. Her pulse was pounding and her heart was soaring. She let go of those second guesses.

She had her rain jacket and he had nothing but they were equally soaked when they reached the entryway of her building. Her dress was sticking to her legs and her soppy shoes were uncomfortable. She pulled them off and felt his warm breath against her cheek as she punched in the security code.

“Are you sure about this, Angel? I don’t want this to be something you’ll regret come morning.”

She turned to face him as the door buzzed and opened. His hair was wet, the inky curls dripping onto the shirt which was plastered to him. She shivered from the chilly rain and from the heat of his stare.

“I’m as sure as I can be about something so completely out of the norm for me but then there’s been a bit of an upheaval to the old routine ever since we met.” His eyes were solemn so she kissed his cheek. “I don’t plan on having any regrets, do you, Jon?”

He smiled and shook his head. “No regrets. I’ll never regret a minute that I get to spend with you.”

She took his hand, leading him indoors. “If you weren’t with me tonight, what would you be doing?”

“If I weren’t forced to be at some boring function? I’d likely be jumping from rooftop to rooftop chasing down bad guys, I suppose.”

“Oh, my. I’m not sure I wanted to know that.”

He huffed a laugh and pushed the call button for the elevator. “Alright then. If I wasn’t with you and I had my druthers on a night like this, I’d probably be sitting at home watching a movie or playing checkers with Davos.”

“Checkers?”

“Yep. Life styles of the ridiculously rich and astonishingly ordinary.”

“I’m, uh…did not expect that one. But, as a physician, given your other nocturnal activities, I’ll whole-heartedly endorse checkers as a leisure time activity.”

“Thank you, doctor. What about you?”

“If this were an ordinary night where I was off and Rickon wasn’t staying over, I’d probably be curled up with a good book.”

“Were you looking to add a bit of spice to the routine tonight then?” he asked with that cheekiness she liked.

“I don’t know. Some of my romance novels are fairly racy.”

“Racy? Tell me more.”

“Well, more exciting than checkers I’ll bet.” The doors opened for the elevator just then. She grasped him by the belt with two fingers, tugging him along. His eyes widened a touch before that sexy smile was back. “But it sounds like we might both enjoy a little more spice on our rainy nights.”

 

* * *

 

 

 

The thunder rattled the window panes and lightning lit the bedroom shortly before dawn, causing him to stir from his exhausted slumber. His body ached but in a good way. She stretched behind him and curled an arm around his waist, her bare breasts nestled against his back, holding him close. He’d never been the little spoon before. He liked it.

Her hand was warm where she held him, small but strong. _A healer’s hands_ , he thought as he covered it with his larger, rougher one.

The elevator had been slow heading up to the fourth floor. She’d said it always was. They’d made the most of that. Her elderly neighbor’s startled gasp had kept some serious making out from turning X-rated at least.

Once they’d made it inside her apartment, their wet clothes had quickly littered the floor. In his eagerness, the pretty dress had wound up with a tear before puddling at her feet.

_“I’m sorry.”_

_“It’ll mend and perhaps my pretty dress might forgive you in time.”_

_“What if I buy it a dozen friends and promise to take them all out in turns?”_

She’d bit her lip and grinned before unhooking her lacy white bra and then sliding her panties down her hips. His mouth had fallen open. Sansa was nothing short of extraordinary.

Gloriously naked, she’d pushed him back onto her sofa and straddled him, the damp auburn curtain of her hair falling over them both. There was a hunger in her eyes that left him breathless and a softness in her smile that made his heart swell.

 _“I never do this,”_ she’d whispered with a sweet tremulousness as he’d cupped her face, happily letting her take the lead. Their eyes were locked on each other, blue on grey.

 _“Me neither.”_ He’d seen the skepticism and he’d never regretted that playboy image he’d been crafting for the sake of his cover so much in his life. _“It’s true, Sansa. Those girls I’ve dated, they’re just escorts for business functions and fundraising events, someone to smile for the cameras and share a dance before dropping them back off at their front doors. I’m not claiming I’ve lived a celibate life or anything but there’s been nothing more than a kiss on the cheek for several months now, okay?”_

_“Really?”_

_“The things I shared with you tonight…I don’t share those things with anyone. I want you to know the real me.”_

_“Okay then.”_ The skepticism had faded.

They’d kissed next, hot and needy, and his cock had been throbbing as she centered herself. She’d whimpered softly as she’d eased her way downward. He’d groaned at the tightness and the pleasurable sensation of filling her. _“Alright, angel?”_

Her hands had clutched his shoulders for leverage as he’d grasped her ass and nipped at her collar bone, exploring every inch of her satiny skin. “ _Yes, it’s…gods, it’s good. You?”_

_“Fucking fantastic.”_

She’d flashed that coquettish grin and started to ride him, tantalizingly slow at first. He’d watched in wonder at the beauty of Sansa, her lips parted and her face intent as she found the angle that pleased her most. It all felt amazing to him.

Passion had taken over soon enough and the slick wet slaps of flesh meeting flesh along with their grunts and cries had filled her apartment as the rain continued pattering against the windows. His fingertips had left marks on her hips but she’d only urged him on. By the time they’d climaxed, he couldn’t picture ever wanting anyone else again.

Sweaty, disheveled and naked, he’d been grinning stupidly as Sansa had fetched towels for them to dry off. He’d loved the intimacy of drying each other’s hair as they’d shared a glass of wine in her kitchen. Once that was done, they’d made their way to her bed to make love again.

 _“Sansa, I…”_ He’d been on top of her, thrusting steady but slow, savoring every second though the pressure was swiftly building towards another release. _I’m falling for you,_ he’d thought.

 _“Yes?”_ she’d asked with one ginger eyebrow cocked, her fingers sinking into his curls again.

_“I…oh, fuck, I’m really close.”_

_“Me, too.”_ She’d arched her back and dug her heels into the mattress. _“Harder, Jon. Yes…yes…YES!”_

Worn out at last, they’d fallen asleep a couple of hours ago. But now, he was awake again. He was already becoming aroused at the thought of having her once more. Would she be agreeable to that notion?

He pulled her hand up to his mouth to kiss it and she hummed. She peppered his back with delicate kisses. He could get used to this. Hells, his heart was hers if she wanted it, wrapped in pretty paper and tied up with ribbon.

“Jon?”

“Yeah?”

Her hand slipped down to his waist and then lower. “Do you think…again?”

Fuck, she was perfect. “Oh, yeah.” He rolled so quickly she screeched and was laughing as he settled himself between her legs. “Again…” He kissed his way down to her belly button. She giggled. “And again…” His lips brushed the hair over her pussy and she shivered. “And again.” He licked a stripe along her folds and lightly sucked on her clit.

She squirmed and moaned wantonly and he raised his eyes to watch her in the slowly lightening bedroom, echoes of fire waking in her messy morning hair and her blue eyes shining like sapphires. He wasn’t leaving her bed till noon. He’d never leave it again if she said stay.

 

* * *

 

 

  
Six hours later, he arrived at his penthouse in the same clothes he’d worn last night which were decidedly more rumpled after their soaking and being left to indifferent drying on Sansa’s living room floor to find Davos sitting in the kitchen with the paper and a cup of tea.

It wasn’t as if he was a boy or like he’d never come home well after sun-up before but Sansa was a lady. Hopefully, he might even get to call her _his_ lady. He did his best to wipe the look of a happily laid man off his face for the sake of propriety.

“Good morning, Davos.”

“Good _afternoon_ , sir,” Davos replied with just the merest hint of a smirk.

His lips twitched and he scrubbed at the back of his neck. “Um, yes. So it is.”

Davos’s smirked lasted half a second longer before he schooled his features into his customary urbanity. “Care for some coffee, sir? I’ll pull the car ‘round shortly. You’ve got time to shift into a suit for that meeting at 2.”

“The meeting at 2,” he repeated dumbly. “Shit. Yes, I’d love some coffee and I’ll change. I’ll, uh…” He dug out his phone and texted his secretary to send his itinerary for the day. He hoped he wasn’t going to spend the rest of his day begging anyone’s pardon for standing them up.

“I checked in with Walda earlier. You didn’t have anything else scheduled today.”

Jon heaved a sigh of relief. “Thank you, Davos.”

“You do have that meeting with the new mayor and his staff tomorrow morning though. I _hope_ you won’t be forgetting him.”

“Certainly not.”

Stannis Baratheon was not a fan of Night Wolf’s to say the least but he did appear quite committed to cleaning up City Hall and making Kings Landing a better place for its citizens. Jon was hoping to gain his support for a new after school program he wanted to fund for Flea Bottom, one aimed at young adolescents who would otherwise be sitting alone in an empty apartment or hanging out in the streets. Regrettably, not everyone could go to Hobb’s for free milkshakes to go along with their algebra homework

Davos rose and poured him the coffee. It wasn’t that he necessarily craved it this time of day.  He’d had some earlier when they’d enjoyed a rather adventurous brunch in her bed.

Sansa was fond of fresh fruit and sweet things he was learning. They were going to need more strawberries and whipped cream. The memory of her warm wet tongue busily licking and sucking him clean had him grinning libidinously. He’d need to think on something else or he’d been adjusting himself at the table soon.

And on second thought, he’d probably need the caffeine boost to make it through any meeting that involved Gyles Rosby with his wispy voice and incessant cough and the implacable Noho Dimittis from Braavos.

“We’ll see if the seventh time will be the charm for working something out.”

“You’ll manage it, sir.”

“I don’t know. There are days I want to sell the whole company off, Davos, and this is one of them. It will never be my passion, you know?”

He felt Davos’s hand on his shoulder. “I know, sir. But I know you well enough to know you wouldn’t walk away from a duty until you feel you’ve done your best to see it either complete or given it over to more capable hands.” He sat the coffee in front of him.

“I need to find those more capable hands,” he grumbled.

“Then, maybe you can find your passion. Unless you’d call your little hobby that. Is it?”

“I…I thought so. I’m not so sure anymore.”

True, when he’d originally left Kings Landing after his father, step-mother and half-siblings’ murders, he’d had a few rage-fueled ideas of seeking vengeance but that wasn’t really where his motivation lay. He had told Sansa the truth. It was his mother’s example of bravery and standing up for what was right and those who couldn’t stand up for themselves that had led him to the Wolf. And he’d learned too much about his father and witnessed an eye-opening cautionary tale about the futility of the relentless pursuit of revenge along the way to let that be his guiding hand. The Wolf was about justice but more about protecting those who couldn’t protect themselves.

_“But aren’t there other ways to do that, legal and less dangerous ways?”_

He was trying but funding after school programs and doorstep deliveries of hot meals for senior citizens wouldn’t scare away the drug dealers, pimps or extortionists.

“Perhaps you’ve found a new passion now?”

“Yes, I have. She’s…” He stumbled and stuttered, unable to land on one word to say it all.

Davos seemed to understand him regardless. “I’m happy for you, lad.”

“Thank you, Davos.”

“Well, best drink that up and hurry along. Don’t want you running late and I’m driving so we won’t be exceeding the speed limit.”

“Riiiight. Hey, Davos?”

“Yes, sir?”

“I’ve got a date for that fundraiser next week lined up.”

“Do you?”

“Yeah. I’m hoping I’ve got a date lined up for any event I absolutely must attend if she’s willing.”

“That so?”

“That’s so. And, I’ve got plans tonight so don’t wait up.”

“Very well, sir. Might as well brush up on Solitaire for a bit.”  He laughed and started to rise when Davos inexplicably hung his head. “Wait. I need to tell you something, I guess. I don’t particularly want to but I know you were dealing with him or his underlings at least the other night.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I suppose you’ve not bothered to glance at the papers today?”

Not likely. No news report could hold a candle to his morning in bed with Sansa. “No, why?”

Davos slid the paper across the table. Jon read the headline in disbelief. Ross ‘Rattleshirt’ Bones was believed to be dead after a fire had been reported last night at one of his dilapidated warehouses near the harbor. It appeared the notorious loan shark and enforcer had been tied up and burned at a crude stake inside but the fire department had managed to put the blaze out before the whole building went up.

“Why would they do something so unusual that would draw attention like this? It’s usually two taps to the head when one of them takes out a competitor.”

“Perhaps it wasn’t a competitor, sir.”

“No, I guess not.” Somehow, that frightened Jon more. “Wonder what the press doesn’t know or isn’t reporting.”

“That’s not something I can answer.”

“But maybe it’s something I can find out.” He needed to get his motorcycle replaced.

“But not tonight, sir. Tonight, you have plans,” Davos said earnestly as that familiar underlying worry crept into his tone.

“Maybe not tonight…” _but soon._ That was the unspoken part.

Davos wouldn’t be the only one worrying about him now which only made Jon feel worse. He rubbed at his tired eyes, wondering if she’d understand and hating that he’d be asking her to anyway.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a bit of a thing for them getting caught in the rain especially when it leads to sexy times. I don't know why! 
> 
> We'll meet some of our other players next chapter as Jon and Sansa's romance gets more serious. 
> 
> Thank you so much for reading! Writing these two makes me ridiculously happy so I'm glad there are others who enjoy reading them :)


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some murders mentioned and a bit of a cliffhanger at the end...

 

A month had passed since that first date and Sansa was happier than she would’ve thought possible. Yes, the sex was hot and there was a thrill that came with dating someone who could fly you to the Summer Isles at the drop of a hat if you asked but she was just as content to engage in a friendly round of checkers with Davos before heading out for cheeseburgers and a movie. Spending time together whenever they could was what she loved most.

They had been enjoying that happy bubble of their relationship, getting to know each other better while being left alone by the world at large but more and more lately, the press was becoming convinced that Jon Snow was seeing someone in particular and that someone was named Sansa Stark. However, his secret was still safe and their most private moments weren’t on display. Those things were only between him and her.

Sansa would not complain about the increasing scrutiny from the tabloids even if there were aspects of dating Jon that made it a unique sort of experience, aspects that had little to do with his fortune or the company he’d inherited.

“What happened?” she gasped.

“Promise not to yell?”

“When do I yell?” His chin was tucked and he was gazing up at her from beneath his lashes, part errant schoolboy, part seducer and beneath the surface she could sense his wry amusement. She rolled her eyes and grumbled, “I didn’t yell last time…much. Come on.”

On the nights she was working, Jon would be out doing his own sort of work but he’d always drop by to see her at some point. It was true that the hospital was in one of the poorer sections of the city where criminals had thought they owned the night…until the Night Wolf had come along. But Sansa knew he came by because he wanted to and she looked forward to seeing him whether they had time to grab coffee or just hold hands for a few minutes. He would always ask about her night and she would carefully ask about his.

He’d be in jeans and leather jacket with his motorcycle helmet tucked under his arm. Nevertheless, she knew his mask and suit would be stowed somewhere nearby.

But, there’d been a time or three when she could tell by the tight set of his jaw as he’d ask if she might take a look at something for him that there was likely a new scar in the making to be tended to. Not that he was getting life-threatening injuries, thank the gods, but she worried and he knew it.

“What am I going to do with you?” she groused, wrapping a bandage around his thigh behind Curtain 2.

“Kiss it and make it better?”

She kissed his lips instead. “Go home. No more dare-doing tonight.”

“Yes, doctor.”

He rose and pulled his jeans back on as Sansa toyed with her stethoscope to keep her hands from wandering inappropriately. It was perfectly acceptable to treat him. It wouldn’t be acceptable to make-out with him on the job.

Granted, everyone at work knew they were dating. Randa was especially inquisitive and would grow dreamy-eyed around Jon. Not that Sansa minded since she grew rather dreamy-eyed herself when it came to him. Even if he never came by, they’d know. The papers were getting hard to miss.

 

**Playboy Jon Snow spied with the same red-haired beauty twice in a row!**

 

**Jon Snow spotted kissing his new lady at downtown music festival.**

 

**Who is Dr. Sansa Stark and has she managed to capture the heart of Kings Landing’s most mysterious billionaire?**

 

_Have I?_

Neither of them had said the L word yet. They’d gone so far as to declare their relationship exclusive and serious to each other. She thought he might’ve been on the verge of saying more the other night right before she’d been paged to the OR. And sometimes, the way he stared at her nearly convinced her.

_Does he love me? I think I might be in love with him._

Sansa tried her best to ignore the tabloid speculations of how soon they might crash and burn but she did enjoy the photos. He was terribly dashing in evening wear. Her pretty dresses were delighted to have such handsome tailored suits to go out with.

Tomorrow night, they’d be attending another black tie event, the hospital’s charity ball. Dr. Sansa Stark was just an intern and had not been invited but Jon Snow, the great-great-something-or-other nephew of Aemon Targaryen for whom the hospital was named, had been. She hoped they might dance the night away.

 _As long as duty doesn’t call_ , she thought worriedly. He’d not canceled on her until the night before last and even then he’d done his best to make amends.

_“You don’t have to bring me flowers and look so apologetic for catching the drug dealers or saving a little old lady from being mugged, Jon.”_

_“It wasn’t a little old lady.”_

_“Well, if it was a hot young lady, I may require more than a bouquet of flowers, no matter how lovely they are.”_

_“She was hot alright but not the way you mean.”_

_“Oh? Oh, gods!”_ she’d gasped when she’d realized what he meant.

There’d been a string of troublesome murders in Kings Landing the past month. Seven people had been tied to stakes and apparently burned alive. The first five had been known criminals but the two most recent weren’t. Judge Sunglass, a pious follower of the new gods as well as a highly respected jurist, had been killed a week earlier. The night before last, a septa had reportedly been abducted right outside the gates of her motherhouse and later found burned near Iron Gate.

And according to what Jon had learned, each body had been found with a grim calling card left nearby; a sword through a heart wreathed with flames and the word ‘purify’ written upon it.

“ _Who would do something like that? And why?”_

_“I don’t know. It’s odd.  The scenes are all identical.  Almost like a ritual.”_

_“Ritual? Like a religious thing?”_

_“Maybe.”_

_“What kind of looney toons religious freaks think its okay to burn people alive? Never mind. Don’t answer that.”_

_“Yeah, I know. It seems unbelievable in this day and age but it did happen in the past. Maybe someone’s missing the good old days.”_ She’d shivered and he’d put his arms around her. _“Don’t worry. I’m looking into it.”_

_“I’m worried because you’re looking into it.”_

_“I’m sorry.”_

_“Just be careful.”_

_“I will.”_

As much as she fretted over Jon and whatever new dangers he might be facing, she had not gone into this relationship blind. She’d learned what he was the night they’d met and it had not frightened her off. She hoped someday he might put his mask aside for good but she did not plan on issuing any ultimatums or setting him any timelines.

  
Jon was who he was and she was…in love with him. _I love him_ , she realized just as he’d finished zipping up his jeans.

“Did you catch them tonight, my wolf?” she asked softly, caressing his bearded jaw.

He gulped and she knew he’d liked that. “I did. I had them nicely trussed up and waiting for Kings Landing’s Finest. Chief Slynt has sworn he’ll see me behind bars for my trouble.”

She ruffled his hair. “My poor hero gets no thank-you notes or praise for his efforts.”

“I can think of something I’d infinitely prefer to a thank-you note,” he winked.

“I’ll be off at six,” she grinned and slipped him her spare key.

“Then, I’ll be waiting for you.”

 

* * *

 

 

  
The hospital charity ball was an annual event in Kings Landing but this was the first time Jon had attended. And while it was a worthwhile cause, he couldn’t say he was all that happy to be there. Still, Sansa had mentioned dancing with a twinkle in her eye and, if his lady wanted to dance, they’d dance.

Jon glanced around the room and subtly tugged at his tie, longing for the moment he could yank it off. “How long do we have to stay?”

“You’re the one who invited me to this thing.”

“Yeah but you work with some of these people.”

“I wouldn’t say I work with anyone here per se and the hospital brass wouldn’t wish to rub shoulders with a lowly intern like me.”

“What? They’re clearly fools.” She snickered. He thought he might have heard every variety of Sansa’s laughter by now. He couldn’t decide which one he liked best. “Anyone who sees you in that dress will want to rub shoulders with you. They’re the prettiest set of shoulders I’ve ever seen.”

“No one has ever complimented my shoulders before.” Her cheeks had turned that rosy pink that made him think of sunset. His stomach swooped, knowing he could make her blush like that.

“Alas, the world is full of fools. At least, I get to be first to compliment your lovely shoulders.”

She laughed more fully. _Still undecided on which I like best_. “My poet.”

“I’ll write a sonnet about them.”

“Thank you…I think.”

“But first, I repeat my earlier question: how long do we have to stay?”

“An hour, Jon.”

He allowed himself a dramatic sigh which earned him a pinch but also another laugh. “Alright.”

“And my pretty dress wants to dance.”

“That dress deserves a dozen dances but couldn’t we dance alone at my place? I’ll light candles and play soft music and…”

“We’re staying.”

“Alright.”

“You sound like a boy being sent to bed without supper.”

“More like this boy being sent to bed without you. Speaking of bed, how long have we been here?”

“Five minutes. Now, introduce me to the mayor. I think Rickon’s sweet on his daughter so I want to meet him.”

“Rickon’s sweet on Mayor Baratheon’s daughter? When did this happen? And may I torment him about it?”

“It happened when they met last semester at the start of school and don’t you dare torment my baby brother, Jon Snow, or you will go to bed without me.”

“Got it. No tormenting. I’m taking your pretty dress back to mine later.”

She was radiant in her silver dress with her hair swept up in a fancy bun and the last thing Jon wanted to do was go around making small talk with people he barely knew when he could be slipping that dress off her and making a mess of her hair. But, she’d made her requests and he’d honor both. _Introduce her to Stannis, dancing and then home as quick as she’ll allow._

The mayor had been hospitable enough when they’d discussed the after school program last month…as hospitable as a man like Stannis could manage anyway.

“He can’t be that bad.”

“I don’t think he’s bad. I just can’t help but wonder how he ever won a political campaign with his personality.”

“His brother was mayor before him, I heard.”

“Yes and corrupt as the day is long.”

“That must be part of why he wishes to be the mayor. Perhaps he sees it as his duty to clean up his brother’s mistakes.”

Jon supposed he could understand that living under the shadow of his own father’s misdeeds.

He also felt sorry for Rickon if he started dating the man’s daughter. He’d already experienced a few moments of anxiety picturing meeting Sansa’s parents someday although he sincerely wanted to meet them. Ned Stark didn’t appear all that severe looking in the photographs he’d seen but he was a cop…and Sansa’s dad. But Stannis? And if Jon was still 18? He’d likely bolt for the door the moment he saw that man’s infamous scowl and clenched jaw.

“Mayor Baratheon, may I introduce my girlfriend, Dr. Sansa Stark?”

He’d been looking at Sansa as he said it. It was the first time he’d had a chance to introduce her to someone as his girlfriend. He liked it. She was smiling softly. He thought she might have liked it, too.

 _I love you,_ he thought for the hundredth time that night. He wanted to tell her. He needed to tell her and soon. But the prospect made him nervous because he didn’t have much experience with saying it.

However, when he turned to face Stannis, all thoughts of love confessions died on his tongue. The man was scowling fiercely. He briskly shook his hand and then Sansa’s but then acted as if he was going to turn away from them both. He didn’t mind if Stannis did not particularly wish to speak with him but he would not tolerate him being rude to Sansa. However, he breathed a sigh of relief when he realized they weren’t the ones being scowled at. He was watching someone over by the bar.

“Hello again, Mr. Snow. Dr. Stark, is it? What department are you with?”

Before Sansa could answer, two women approached from the bar and interrupted the three of them. One was the mayor’s wife who Jon had seen in the papers enough. A tall woman with large ears and a sharp nose, she had a feverish look in her eyes at the moment as she stared at her companion with what Jon could only describe as veneration.

“Stannis, I had hoped you’d come over and share a drink with me and Lady Melisandre. I really think she has some fine ideas about reformation and our city.”

Lady Melisandre was known to him only by name. He knew that she came from Asshai and was a published author who wrote about philosophical and religious matters, particularly followers of the Lord of Light or R’hllor. He wondered what she might think of the burnings and the mysterious cards and if she might have some insight to offer.

She was smiling at him at the moment. She was dressed in a sultry red dress with a ruby choker than seemed to glow in the low lighting of the ballroom. Everything about her was red, it seemed. Her hair was a dark copper color compared to Sansa’s auburn. She was tall and slim with a heart-shaped face and her lips were painted bright red. Jon might’ve called her beautiful if he hadn’t found her eyes so unsettling. Red eyes in a pale face. She was striking but something about her made him wary.

“I am unable to have a drink at the moment, Selyse, since I was just about to ask Dr. Stark for a dance,” he said curtly, his eyes flickering to Lady Melisandre before darting away again. “Would you do me the honor, Dr. Stark?”

Jon blinked in astonishment. Stannis Baratheon was asking Sansa, a woman he’d just met, to dance. Jon might not have known him personally all that long but he knew his reputation well enough. He glanced around wondering when the snarks and grumpkins would be appearing to verify that he was obviously in the midst of an odd dream.

“Oh, well…” Sansa stammered, clearly not wishing to be rude though she appeared as baffled by the request as he was. She looked to him and he smiled wanly. It may have been more of a grimace. She smiled and gracefully agreed to dance.

As Stannis led his girlfriend away, Jon felt a hand upon his arm and turned to face those red eyes once more.  “Perhaps you’d honor me with a dance, Jon Snow? I’ve been wanting to meet you for some time now.”

“I’d be…” _terrified_ “…delighted, my lady.”

She smirked and he wondered if she’d read his mind.

 

* * *

 

 

_How does he do it?_

Holding a large paper bag filled to the brim with fragrant food and wearing jeans and a black t-shirt tonight, he looked both comfortable and hot as all seven hells when she opened the door to greet him.

  
“I hope you brought plenty because look who’s joining us for dinner!” Sansa said with exaggerated cheer. She embraced him and whispered, “Please, don’t be upset.”

It was their first night off together where they weren’t attending any sort of event in over a week and they’d both been looking forward to this. He’d said he’d bring Dornish take-out and for her to pick a movie that wouldn’t involve them getting wet but allowed for lots of kissing.

 _“No getting wet?”_ she’d asked, the picture of innocence.

 _“Maybe I should rephrase that,”_ he’d rumbled into the phone. _“And no fair teasing me when I’m at the office, you minx.”_

_“Minx? You used to call me Angel.”_

_“I still do and you are.”_

Unfortunately, Rickon kept a schedule of his own, one that he often failed to share with anyone else and had decided tonight would be a good night to come have dinner with his sister. Granted, Sansa was happy to see him. It had been a couple of weeks since he’d come over. He’d not said anything directly to her but given that her mother had called her the other day to ask who Jon Snow was and was she really going to marry him, Sansa figured he’d already been questioned on the matter and had just been giving her some space.

Normally when he came, he stayed the night. Luckily, he’d brought company this time.

“Oh, Rickon. Hello,” Jon said affably. He murmured in her ear. “Why would I be upset? He’s your brother and…wait. Is he spending the night? I mean, if he is that’s fine but…”

“No, he brought the girl he likes with him.”

“Oh, really?” he smirked. “The famous Miss Baratheon?”

“Please, don’t tease him.”

“Me? Never. You might tell him about my lame attempts at poetry.”

She laughed and kissed him. “Your poetry seems to be working out in your favor.”

“ _Ahem_ …hey, Jon. Let me introduce you to my friend, Shireen.”

An hour later, Sansa’s disappointment in their change of plans had faded to nothing. Shireen was a very sweet girl, clever and fascinated by history and stories. She was good company and Sansa liked her very much. It was hard to see either parent in her.

Shireen’s mother was odd to say the least and Sansa was saddened but not terribly surprised to learn she’d suffered from some mental health issues in the past. She knew Rickon had hinted at strife in the Baratheon home and that Shireen was happy that her parents had allowed her to live in the dormitory.

Poor girl. It was one thing to be eager to spread one’s wings and fly. It was another altogether to be fleeing an unhappy home.

Stannis had been perfectly correct in his behavior as they’d danced the other night but he was a man of few words who seemed uncomfortable around women.

_No wonder he fled from Lady Melisandre._

Sansa had been shocked and a little embarrassed when Jon had abruptly cut short his dance with that lady and then curtly said they would need to leave. She’d been looking forward to swaying in his arms next.

But alone in the car, she’d been infuriated to learn Lady Melisandre had made a pass at him during their dance.

_“But you’d only been dancing a few minutes!”_

_“I know. She said that she’d been following some of the projects I’ve been working on to help the community and admired them. She said she thought we might share a common purpose and she’d like to discuss some ideas with me. I started to give her my secretary’s number but then she, um…rather unexpectedly, mind you…put her hand on my, uh…”_

_“Just like that?!”_ Sansa had snarled.

_“I’m sorry. I’ve dealt with my share of forward women but I didn’t imagine that she would possibly…”_

_“Why are you apologizing?! And the audacity of that woman! It’s a good thing we left or I’d have…”_

_“You’d have what, Angel?”_ he’d grinned.

 _“I would’ve…I might’ve…”_ She’d struggled to come up with an honest expression of her aggravation. She wasn’t naturally predisposed towards violence. _“Well, I can’t say blood would’ve been shed but there definitely would’ve been a scene!”_

_“A scene, Dr. Stark? I’m shocked.”_

_“But if I were my sister Arya, I would’ve split her lip.”_

_“My wolf girl,”_ he’d chuckled.

_“You must me rubbing off on me.”_

Dinner was winding down and her brother seemed content to let Shireen do all the talking for them. Sansa worried he might be in danger of drooling. _Guess we could blame the spicy food._

After dinner, the four of them settled to watch the selected movie and Sansa smiled to see Shireen and Rickon side by side on the loveseat. Once the popcorn was made and the lights turned down low, Sansa did her best not to be too obvious as she looked to see if they were holding hands yet.

Jon tutted quietly in her ear as he pulled her into his lap across the room on the sofa. “Let them be.”

“I wasn’t…and there’s plenty of room for me to sit, too.”

“Yes, but this way you don’t have to toss the popcorn at me.”

As the movie played, his fingers carded through her hair and caressed her shoulders. He kissed her hand and his eyes were smoldering in the low lighting. The Dornish Red had left her relaxed but she grew increasingly eager for movie night to end and the kids to go on home.

Feeling a little guilty of that, she leaned into his ear. “They’re sweet, aren’t they?”

“They are.”

“I think Rickon’s in love.”

“I can’t blame him.” His lips closed around her fingers and the popped kernel they held, a sinfully sweet temptation and promise for later. But then those eyes turned serious and that vulnerability appeared. “I can’t blame him for falling in love with an amazing young woman. I know I already have.” Her lips parted and the softest of sighs escaped. “I love you, Sansa. I’ve been wanting to tell you for a while now. I don’t know why I’ve held back this long but…I love you.”

The movie and their company completely forgotten for the moment, she pressed her lips to his. She could feel his mouth turn upwards into a smile when she answered, “I love you, too.”

 

* * *

 

 

  
“Oh, they’re so adorable together!” Shireen whispered excitedly while they were waiting for the elevator. “They’re totally in love!”

“You think so?” Rickon asked, shoving his hands in his pocket to curb the desire to grasp hers. _What are you waiting for dummy?_ He wanted to hold her hand. He’d like to kiss her, too. He’d like lots of things when it came to Shireen.

_You think Night Wolf is shoving his hands in his pockets right now and telling your sister good night?_

He knew better. He also didn’t need to think too much about what Jon and Sansa would probably be doing in the very near future based on the heated looks that they’d been exchanging once Rickon turned the lights back on and mentioned heading back to campus.

But Shireen seemed happy just being friends and almost all their friends did that. No one said ‘we’re dating’ anymore. They were all just friends who hung out together. Dating was what old people like Sansa and Jon did. Young people like them hung out.

Okay, so some of them were also fucking but it was kind of hard to tell who was fucking who and who was fucking just for fun or because they were gaga for each other when everyone would only admit to hanging out.

_This shit is confusing._

His father would tell him if he liked a girl, he shouldn’t be afraid to let her know it and ask her out. He’d also tell him if he really liked her he shouldn’t be chasing other girls, too. He’d tell him to be respectful though and if she didn’t feel the same to not take it too hard. But Ned Stark was really brave…and ancient. Rickon wondered if he remembered what it was like to be eighteen at all.

He didn’t want to chase any other girls. Shireen was special to him. And, he simply couldn’t imagine making a move and her telling him she didn’t feel the same. He’d shrivel up and die!

Maybe he should ask Jon for some pointers.

_Oh, gods…are you joking?! What might he say? The guy probably has his tongue down your sister’s throat already!_

The elevator took forever in Sansa’s building and Rickon felt this annoying tension building. What was that?

“Wanna take the stairs?” Shireen looked at him quizzically. “Never mind,” he muttered as the elevator doors opened.

He held out his arm for her to get on first and she smiled, that soft smile with those big doe eyes of hers and…

_Fuck it._

He grasped her hand as he jabbed the button for the first floor with his other hand. She flushed bright red but the smile only grew wider. His own face was hot and his hand was probably sweaty. He hoped she didn’t mind.

“Shireen?”

“Yeah?”

The way she said it, all breathy and expectant, that kind of sealed the deal for him. “Would you want to go out with me…on a date?”

She bit her lip and he could see the tip of her pink tongue. Her head tilted to the side and she squeezed his hand. “I thought you’d never ask.”

Yeah, he was going to be walking on sunshine the entire El ride home probably. Maybe he’d even work up the nerve to kiss her good night.

 

* * *

 

 

  
“ _Unnn_ …gods, Sansa…”

The bed was squeaking noisily with her on all fours and him behind. His hands were on her hips as he pounded into her harder. Her long red hair was covering part of that lovely back as she reared her ass back against him, hungry for more.

“Yes, yes, yes…” she moaned. “Like that, my wolf.”

“Oh, shit…” He should not be so turned on by that but fuck it, he was!

His balls were tightening up. He reached around to tease her clit. “Oh, Jon!”

His eyes crossed as he felt her fluttering around him and he couldn’t hold back another second. He shouted when he came and then collapsed on the bed panting and soon laughing. “I meant to make that last longer.”

“I’m not complaining, am I?” she giggled, rolling to face him. “I love you.”

“I love you, Angel.”

The kids had left about thirty minutes ago but at least they had all night. They washed and nestled down to snuggle until the urge for Round Two struck.

But, her phone started ringing just as they were getting comfortable and she groaned. “That had better not be work.”

He was tempted to tell her to ignore it but he knew better. She was a dedicated physician.

She frowned when she saw who was calling though and once she’d answered she bolted up right. “Rickon? Baby, what’s wrong? Are you hurt?”

That tone…it reminded him of his mother’s voice when he’d been hurt or frightened as a boy. It reminded him of Davos even when he was worrying over him.

Alarmed, he sat up as well, trying to listen in. She clasped his hand, her breath growing short and her eyes welling with tears.

“Did you call the police?”

_“I did. They’re here. They don’t…they don’t believe me.”_

“What happened?”

_“She was all red and there were two thugs with her. I tried to fight them, Sansa.”_

“Rickon, what…”

_“Even her eyes were red.”_

“Baby, who had red eyes?”

_“The one who took Shireen.”_

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oof...I had to write action. Fingers crossed it does not suck!
> 
> TW for some violence and peril, a couple of bad guys die.

* * *

 

They’d been so happy. They were in love and were looking forward to a night in each other’s arms. One phone call, one terrible event and everything was happening too fast.

All her experience dealing with the rapid-fire, ever-evolving landscape of emergency medicine seemed to have abandoned her. She couldn’t think straight or process this yet.

She was still naked and he was already up, throwing on clothes and talking about calling Davos and some detective he knew.

She was shaking, rubbing her arms and chest. She felt cold. Her heart was beating too fast and she felt a little dizzy. This was shock. Intellectually, she knew it. She just didn’t have any first-hand experience with it to this degree.

_Rickon needs me._

Jolted by the thought, she rose on unsteady feet and reached for her underwear. “I guess we’ll head to the police station and…”

“I’m not going with you."

“What?!”

“I’ve got to go by my place.”

She felt like he’d struck her with his words. She wanted to collapse back onto the bed. He was leaving?! Leaving her when she needed him? When her little brother was alone and frightened and hurt and his friend had been abducted?

He paused in the act of buckling his belt. Her face was likely an open book. Would it change his mind though? He pulled her close, cupping her face and didn’t that make her want to fall into his arms and cry?

“ _Shhh_ …I know this is awful and I’m sorry.” She nodded. He understood. He was going to… “But I’ve got to act fast if I’m going to rescue Shireen.” Her face crumpled up and she started to cry harder. She wanted him with her. She hated herself for being so selfish when he wanted to save an innocent 18 year old girl from the gods only knew what. “Red eyes, Sansa. It’s Lady Melisandre. I’d swear to it. I’ve got to go. I promise I hate leaving you like this more than you can ever guess. Davos is on his way to take you to the station.”

Frustrated, she started to argue that she didn’t need his butler if she couldn’t have him. “I can drive or ride the El or…”

His jaw was set and he looked fierce. Was this the face he showed during business meetings when it was time to play hardball? Was this the face of the Wolf? “Davos is coming to get you. You’re not driving in this condition and you’re sure as hell not getting on the El this time of night with everything that’s happening.” He softened enough to give her a brief kiss. “I love you.” And then, he was gone and she was alone, left to wait for her ride.

Mechanically, she tugged on some clothes. She practiced some deep breathing and remembered her training. This was not a medical emergency. This was something that Jon could do though. Rickon needed her and she was his only family here.

_I don't have to be._

She would make a list of everything she could recall about their meeting with Stannis, his wife and Lady Melisandre the other night. She’d scour the internet for information about the burnings, the followers of R’hllor and anything that might help him.

But first, she would make a phone call of her own before Davos arrived.

It was getting late but he answered on the second ring.

“Dad?”

 

* * *

 

 

  
Detective Jacelyn Bywater had been with KLPD for twenty-five years and might’ve retired to live on his pension if he chose. He’d not chosen to yet. There were a lot of corrupt cops on the force under Slynt but Bywater wasn’t one of them. Maybe he hated the thoughts of leaving the force shy of yet another decent cop.

Honorable and down-to-earth, he’d lost a hand in the line of duty when Jon had been a kid living in Flea Bottom. Nurse Snow had treated him with her usual competence and care but also with some much appreciated good humor. They’d struck up a friendship and he’d made a point of patrolling the old neighborhood when he could and got to know her young son.

As a rebellious teen, Bywater had kept Jon out of any serious trouble after some youthful scrapes when he’d be home from school and miserable. He hadn’t done it because of who his father was either.

 _“What would your mother think of this, Jon Snow?”_ he’d ask in that disappointed tone that Davos had employed to good affect quite often as well. He’d been a broody little shit at times but that had never failed to get his attention and set him back on the right path again.

Bywater knew that his old friend’s son took a keen interest in law and order around Kings Landing but he didn’t know that Jon Snow and Night Wolf were one and the same until tonight. His wolf mask was clutched in one hand and he’d slicked his hair back into a manbun to keep it out of the way but there was no mistaking who he was dressed as. _No mistaking who I really am._

“Holy shit.”

“Sorry, Detective. Are you going to arrest me?”

Jon felt a little ridiculous as Bywater looked him slowly up and down again. He liked his suit alright but it was still…well, a costume in a sense.

All black with just the small snarling wolf insignia over his heart, it had been crafted in secret by the tech genius who’d been relegated to the basement at Targaryen Industries by some bean counter not long before Jon had returned from his journeys. Samwell Tarly asked no questions and made what his boss asked him to make. In exchange for his talents and his silence, he’d recently left the basement for his own lab to work on what he pleased most of the time, all privately funded by Jon.

The old man shook his head and started chuckling. “I won’t be arresting you but what would your mother think of this, Jon Snow?”

“She’d probably send me to bed without supper…if she didn’t try and slap some sense into me first.” He’d have to let that be the extent of their pleasantries tonight. “I need to know what the department’s doing about the mayor’s daughter and I think I’ve got a good lead.”

“How do you even know about that? The press is being kept out of it at the moment.”

“I’ve got my own sources.”

_I’m in love with the sister of the young man she was with. And I’m worried at the moment that she’s very angry with me for taking off like I did. But mostly, I just want to rescue the girl and then make things up to Sansa._

“I need to know about any property that Lady Melisandre of Asshai might own, too.”

Whatever kooky ideas of reform Lady Melisandre had wanted to discuss with him so eagerly the night she’d cupped his cock on the dance floor at the charity ball, Jon didn’t think it had much to do with afterschool programs and meal deliveries for seniors.

Stannis had been equally vocal about calling out corruption in government and the police force as well as attacking the vigilante justice of Night Wolf…and the religious zealots who wanted to ‘cleanse’ Kings Landing.

There was a noisy little group of missionaries calling themselves the Shadowbinders, all followers of R’hllor, the same religion for which Melisandre published books and did the lecture circuit. Jon had done some research and learned that they had burned non-believers at the stake in the past. They might easily be connected to the current rash of murders.

The other murders had occurred on the victim’s turf. _Gods, don’t let that poor girl be a victim_. But somehow, he thought this case might be different. Shireen’s abduction had occurred in a public place and a witness had been left behind. Shireen could be a tool to control Stannis. Jon suspected they’d take her somewhere they felt was safe and hold her there.

An hour later, he’d checked in with Davos to learn that Sansa was with Rickon since she’d failed to pick up when he’d called her. He tried not to take that as a bad sign. She needed to focus on her brother.

Davos also mentioned that she’d called her father and that Ned Stark was coming to town. Ostensibly, he’d probably claim he was there for his kids but Jon know how cops tended to think. He’d use professional courtesy and the brotherhood of law enforcement to find out everything he could. Maybe that’d help matters. Maybe it wouldn’t. His presence might help keep Rickon from doing anything rash anyway.

Meanwhile, Jon might soon be meeting the man he hoped to call his father-in-law someday. _Yikes_.

 _And what would your mother think of this, Jon Snow?_ he asked himself as he stood in front of Lightbringer Books, his first stop on his search for Lady Melisandre and Shireen, and contemplated breaking and entering.

_Oh, she’d be pissed…and then maybe suggest what I should do first._

The Wolf didn’t knock on the front door or leave calling cards. He snuck around back, using the night to shield him and broke into the bookshop that took up the first floor. The shop was pretty typical with a wide array of books for sale. It was the second floor that interested him. Those were supposed to be Lady Melisandre’s business offices.

Using the stairwell instead of the elevator, he silently climbed up to his destination and found himself in a hallway. The doors of the office space were locked but glass. The lights were off. He didn’t think he’d find Shireen or her abductors here. A little trickier than the bookshop’s backdoor but he had a tool for this lock as well. Sam was a clever fellow who kept the Wolf’s utility belt full of gadgets and new surprises.

He wondered if Sansa would like to meet him or if Sam would mind meeting her.

 _“The less I know, the better,”_ was Sam’s motto.

He stalked across the quiet office to the private one at the back with a golden nameplate upon its door. Yet another locked door and this one far more complicated than the first two. A code entry keypad. He’d have to make a phone call. This was the first time he’d bothered him at night this way. He’d preferred respecting Sam’s wishes and allowing him plenty of plausible deniability about what his boss was up to.

But he thought of charred corpses, the burning heart on the calling card and the word ‘Purify.’ He thought of Shireen and the way Rickon had looked at her so adoringly. The kid loved that girl just like he loved that kid’s sister.

_I’m sorry. I can’t close my eyes and walk away…and I need help tonight._

“Sam, I need a key,” he breathed into the phone.

For a man who’d been asleep, he was quick. “You got your locksmith on the phone?”

“I do.”

He held his phone up to the door’s keypad, the special one that Sam had made for him after the earlier debacle with his commlink the night he’d met Sansa, and waited, knowing Sam likely had his laptop up already to work his magic.

A couple of minutes and numbers flashed on the phone’s screen and then the keypad lit up as if it were being touched by a hand that wasn’t there. The door clicked and opened.

“You’re a wizard, Sam,” he chuckled.

“I always wanted to be a wizard as a boy. This was strange dream by the way. I shouldn’t have drank that butterbeer so late.”

“Stick to pumpkin juice. You’re a good man, Samwell Tarly.”

“Thank you. Don’t tell me how exactly I’m a good man though in this instance, alright?”

“I won’t. Good night.”

He put away his phone and crept inside to see what he could find that might lead him to the woman or the girl.

 

* * *

 

 

  
“Sit still,” she commanded before tenderly touching the swab to his cut.

“Ouch! Shit, that stings!”

She’d brought Rickon back to her place after talking to the police. Davos had driven them back and he was looming behind her, a perfect mother hen to go along with a worried big sister.

The paramedics had tried treating him but he’d been too agitated to cooperate, so eager for the police to understand what he’d seen. And then the anger of realizing the cops were being a bit dismissive of him and his tales of the woman with red eyes had brought out his temper. Rickon had always had a bit of a temper.

It wasn’t like they weren’t concerned about Mayor Baratheon’s daughter being abducted. They surely were. But they’d sent them home, telling Rickon a detective would go back over his story in the morning and promising they’d call if Miss Baratheon was found.

And some mole within the department had leaked the story to the press an hour ago and now it was all over the news…not that the news seemed to know much. They weren’t saying anything about the two thugs Rickon had seen or the woman with red eyes either.

Sansa was glad her brother didn’t have a name to attach to her. He’d be asking to fly off with Jon if he did.

“Where is Jon?! We need him!” Rickon shouted a second later.

“He’s working, Rickon,” she replied evasively.

“Working?! He’s…” He rolled his eyes and realized what she meant. “Call him. I can help him. I want to help him!”

He’d called earlier and she’d let it go to voice mail. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to talk to him. Her fleeting hurt from earlier had faded into nothing but an embarrassed memory of her initial weakness. She’d rather not reflect on it now. He wanted to save Shireen and he knew information that might help make that possible. He might be labeled a vigilante but to Sansa he was heroic and she loved him even as she worried.

But she’d not answered earlier because two police officers had been standing right over her and she wasn’t sure how to deftly ask her questions without drawing suspicion.

“You’re staying right here, Rickon. Dad’s already got a flight and…”

“Like fuck, I am!” He stood up, practically knocking into her. He was taller than her even though he would always be her little brother. She realized she could not physically stop him if he tried to leave. He would never harm her of course but he was worried and angry and not thinking all that straight. She knew the feeling.

“Rickon, please. Sit down and let me…”

He shoved his way past her, grabbing her phone off of the counter. “I can call him myself if you won’t.”

Davos had been the silent observer until that point but he moved quickly for an older man and plucked the phone from Rickon’s hands. “Do as your sister says, lad. I’ll call him and let him know that you’re eager to help. If he needs you, he’ll let us know. But for now…just let your sister help clean you up. We wouldn’t want to miss hearing word on the news or from the police if they found your girl, would we?”

There was something about Davos’ deep, reassuring voice that must’ve clicked with Rickon in a way hers hadn’t. She wouldn’t be frustrated by that, merely grateful when he took a seat again.

He covered his face with his hands. “I didn’t save her. She’s my girl, Sansa. I couldn’t stop them.”

She held her brother close and understood how much it sucked to be so helpless in this situation. She was in it, too. _He’s my man and I’m scared and I hate feeling useless. I want them both back with us and safe._

Davos patted her hand and Rickon’s head before muttering he’d make some tea for them all and call Jon.

She knew he wasn’t going to call Jon. Jon would be busy and the last thing he’d need was to know a hotheaded teenager was desperate to follow in his tracks. Davos would be left like them, waiting and worrying and praying until Jon made contact. _At least, we’re here and in this together_.

Thunder rumbled in the distance. She drew a shaky breath and reminded herself that rain and thunderstorms were not something she feared. It was not a bad omen. _Not for us. It was raining when we met._

 

* * *

 

 

  
The rain was steady but not a downpour yet. He would thank the gods if he were a more devout man. As it was, he was grateful. It lent him more cover in the night, especially in the shadows where he lurked.

From the outside, the temple was nothing much like Jon figured a temple would be. It was small and inconspicuous compared to the ostentatious sept across the way. But this was where the Shadowbinders met twice a week to practice their faith with their co-religionists and also to hold meetings of their own. This place had featured prominently in the paperwork he’d found in Lady Melisandre’s office, too.

He’d been concerned to see his own name on some of that paperwork with the words ‘possible convert’ scrawled across the top in an elegant hand. There was a photograph attached of him and Sansa from some society event they’d attended weeks ago.

Sansa had worn a plum colored minidress. He couldn’t recall the precise event, only that he’d struggled to keep his hands from creeping up her thighs in that short dress during the dull dinner and that they’d stopped and bought some plum sorbet afterwards. He particularly remembered how quickly it had melted as he’d let it drip onto her tits, stomach and lower and the way she’d gasped at the cold and then moaned and squirmed beneath him when he’d licked and sucked her clean.

They’d laughed like children together the next morning when Davos had walked into the laundry and expressed his astonishment at seeing Jon washing his own sheets.

 _“This is clearly your good influence,”_ Davos had told Sansa.

She’d blushed and said she liked to think she was a good influence on him, her blue eyes sparkling merrily.

 _Focus, you fool,_ he chided himself.

There’d been a question mark scribbled over her head in red marker on that photograph. That worried him more than anything else he’d seen.

The temple was a place of worship and it felt wrong to break in as the Wolf. But if this group, or part of this group, was involved in the burnings, Shireen’s abduction and potentially other things, he needed to know and he needed to be careful.

Before Jon could head across the street though, something caught his eye. There was a storage facility next door but it had a sign warning would-be customers that no units were available. A man wearing the red robes of one of the Lord of Light’s priests exited the temple, walked next door and went inside the storage place.

Jon waited in the shadows for his chance. When it came, he darted to the ally between the buildings. The front door might be unlocked but he thought it wiser to find his own way inside.

 

* * *

 

 

  
Shireen’s head felt fuzzy as consciousness returned. She knew she had hit her head at one point when she’d been trying to get away. Or had they struck her with something?

Her mouth tasted foul and she remembered the liquid they’d poured down her throat once they’d had her in their car.

She shuddered and looked down at her body where she was tied to a chair. She was still fully dressed. She didn’t feel like she’d been harmed in any way beyond what she could recall of the struggle on the platform at the El station.

They’d left Sansa and her boyfriend after the movie. Rickon had asked her out on the elevator. He’d been holding her hand and she’d thought he might even kiss her goodnight. She’d decided if he didn’t kiss her that maybe she’d kiss him. She’d not wanted to see the danger coming their way.

There’d been a woman dressed in red with two men by her side. She’d worn a hooded cloak and Shireen had never seen her face clearly. When they’d started to approach her and Rickon, she’d thought they must be heading to a play. _Little Red Riding Hood in her red cloak_. Even when the men put on ski masks, she’d tried to ignore the warning signals in her brain.

She thought of Rickon and fretted terribly. There had been two men, large men. They’d knocked him to the ground and kicked him several times after he’d tried so hard to keep them from taking her. Was he alright? Was he alive?

She felt tears welling up and she told herself not to cry, that he was okay and she would be alright. Her father would come or send the police. Someone would save her from…whatever this was.

Looking around to get her bearings, some instinct told her she was in a basement. It was an interior room filled with boxes with no windows but it felt like a basement. She focused on what she could hear. The air unit was running. And far off, she would almost swear she could hear thunder and rain. Was that her mind playing tricks on her? It’d been cloudy but no rain earlier. Was she even still in the city? She had no idea how long she’d been out. It felt like it should still be night. Like the basement thing, some instinct told her it was still night.

She heard a door open close by and she slumped forward, pretending to still be unconscious.

“The girl still out, eh?”

“Looks like it. Did she make the call?”

“She did. He’s stubborn as a mule but he won’t say no to nothing while we’ve got her.”

 _I’m the her,_ Shireen realized. Rickon was stubborn but that wasn’t who they meant. This had to have something to do with her father. She wanted to rail at them that her father would do what was right no matter what but kept her silence and continued her act.

The men fell into some discussion about shipments and converts and the will of god. God, not gods. What god did they mean? If she escaped, maybe she could help the police catch these criminals and whatever they were up to.

She heard more footsteps approaching and her nerves were getting the best of her. It was hard to sit still and pretend. She was so afraid. What were they going to do to her? Would they hurt her? Torture her perhaps? Would anyone ever find her?

“My lady,” the first man said.

“She’s still out, my lady,” the second man said.

“No, she’s not,” a woman replied. Shireen would swear she was smiling just by the way she said it.

She looked up and saw the lady from the platform, still dressed in her red hooded cloak. She was no Little Red Riding Hood. There was a third man wearing red robes, similar to her cloak.

Her face was in shadows but she tilted Shireen’s chin up to look at her. “Do you know why you’re here, child?”

Shireen refused to answer. She glared at the woman. She thought maybe she’d like to spit in her face…if she could muster any spit. Maybe she could read minds because the lady dropped her chin and took a step back.

“Your father wants to improve things but he fails to grasp how deep the rot goes. He’s been reluctant to do all that is necessary to clean up the corruption that plagues this city but we are not. A great pestilence has consumed this land but we will make it right again. From Dorne to the Wall, we’ll purge Westeros of the evil that has festered within it and cleanse the people…starting here at the heart of your country, Kings Landing.”

“You’re a mad woman,” she whispered, unable to stop herself.

“No, child. I am a servant of the Lord. Everyone must embrace the light or risk wallowing in the darkness forever.”

“I’ve always preferred the night to be honest.” Her father had warned her a time or two about being a smartass but she couldn’t seem to help it. _Rather be a smartass than a dumbass, Dad.  Thugs and madwomen, be damned._

“Oh, you will never wallow in the dark, child. If you will not convert or your father will not cooperate, we’ll purify you, Sweet Shireen.”

She shivered at that word…purify. What did that mean? She recalled the awful things she’d heard on campus about the people burnt at the stake. It had seemed like it must be part of another world when she’d been safely tucked away at her dormitory. She shouldn’t be such a little girl. Danger lurked everywhere.

Just then, another voice spoke. “I’m with the kid. I prefer the dark.”

The lights cut off and she was cast in darkness as the space around her was filled with shouts and screams.

 

* * *

 

 

  
He’d lingered long enough to hear what he could of Lady Melisandre’s grand plans but not caught any details. It didn’t matter at the moment. This might be his best chance. Three thugs and one strange woman stood between him and Shireen and the element of surprise was on his side. _Along with some night vision goggles._

He’d long ago accepted that killing might be part of this hobby of his though it was not his purpose. So far, he’d avoided being responsible for another person’s death as the Wolf. That was going to change tonight.

He’d easily incapacitated the thug nearest him, the priest in robes he’d seen earlier, after switching off the lights. A solid thump to the head, nothing more.

But the second one had managed to get a knife out and was blindly slashing in the dark. He was far too close to Shireen with that knife and Jon tackled him to the ground.

“He’s on me!” the man cried and the other man stumbled onto them and was soon on top of them both.

The man on top had a knife of his own. The first few jabs of the blade felt like no more than a punch to the kidney and Jon silently thanked Sam again for the suit. But the suit was not completely impervious. He felt the knife slip past the dense material of the suit at last and enter his back. He grunted in pain just as the man below him stopped thrashing. Jon had been choking him. He might’ve choked him to death.

He rolled and disarmed the man on top who was blindly stabbing at him. He grabbed the knife and stabbed his assailant in the chest in the heat of the struggle. With the goggles, the blood looked blackish green. Jon felt sick. He’d never killed a man until tonight but there was no doubt. He could see the blood and watched the light leave his attacker’s eyes.

He glanced up in time to see Lady Melisandre staring at him, her expression hard to read. Her face was still hooded and, other than his gut feeling, he couldn’t be sure it was her. Her eyes glowed bright green in the limited spectrum of vision he had. The ruby at her throat which resembled a great emerald at present winked at him, too. He would swear she was smirking at him before she dashed out the door.

He reached for Shireen to untie her and the girl screamed.

“It’s alright. It’s alright. I’m here to free you.”

“Who are you? Do you know my father? Are you with the police?”

He didn’t answer until she was unbound. He helped her to her feet. “I’m just a friend.”

She was shaking and he couldn’t blame her but he worried she might soon need to help him. He couldn’t see his back but, when he felt it, it was wet and warm. His glove was black but the greenish black of his blood showed up anyway.

Where had Lady Melisandre gone? And what was he to do now? He couldn’t chase her in his condition even if he didn’t need to get Shireen to safety first.

Shireen stumbled along in the dark, holding onto him tightly. He removed his goggles once they were back in the hallway he’d traveled down.

Shireen gasped when she saw the mask. “You’re him! You’re Night Wolf! My boyfriend…well, he’s my friend who’s a boy but he might be my…never mind! My boyfriend thinks you’re amazing!”

“Yeah?” he chuckled as he gripped her tighter. “Well, you can tell him that I said you’re pretty amazing, too.”

She laughed softly as they exited the building. Jon had never been so grateful for the rain and the darkness. It’d make slinking away like a shadow so much easier.

“This is probably crazy but…have we met?” Shireen asked. She was studying him closely as he caught his breath.

He ignored the question rather than lying. “We’re going to get you back to your dad, Shireen. Well, get you back to Rickon, too. There’s a sept across the street and it’s open 24/7. There’ll be a septon or septa on duty and you’re going to have them call the police. I’ll wait outside until I hear the sirens, okay?”

“Okay. Are you…are you hurt?”

“I’m okay,” he lied. “Go on. I’ll watch for any trouble.”

She started to go but turned to give him a hug. “I didn’t tell you his name was Rickon,” she whispered before spinning back around and running to the sept.

He crept out of sight and sank to his knees in the shadows. _I need Sansa. I need help,_ he thought desperately. He feared exposure. And Melisandre had got away.

He closed his eyes when he heard the sirens approaching, pulled out the phone Sam had given him and dialed.

“Davos…I need you. I need her, please.”

 

* * *

 

 

_“Are you still mad at me?” She wanted to cry over how he’d asked her that, sounding so scared and young, not at all the cocksure wolf he acted like on these nights._

_“I’m not mad.”_

_“I love you. I’m sorry.”_

_“I love you. Don’t be sorry.”_

_“I killed them. I’m not a good man. I’m not…what would she think about this?”_

_“Jon, be still. It’s alright. I need to see to your wounds.”_

_“I have to keep you safe. I have to protect you. I’m sorry. I can’t let her get to you…she knows about you…about us…I could tell. I have to protect you.”_

_She didn’t know what to make of his rambling and blamed his wound. She kissed him once before he finally passed out from the pain._

 

This was worse than the first night and treating him was going to take much longer. The stab wound was more serious than the GSW had been. It was a good thing she’d stocked up on her supplies at home. She supposed deep down she knew this night might come.

But she was an emergency medical doctor who specialized in surgery. This was her profession, her calling and he needed her. He’d saved Shireen. Now, she’d do her damnedest to save him.

“I can patch him up but he may need surgery. I can’t do that here. If the kidney’s damaged, it could be very bad,” she warned Davos.

“I know.”

“We’d have to take him to a hospital and they’ll call the police to investigate how Jon Snow got stabbed.”

“I know. Can you try, Sansa?” Davos asked, his voice bordering on the edge of hysteria. “Can you try and…he’s my…”

Davos was going to cry and that would make her cry. She couldn’t cry right now. “I could use an assistant. I could really use a nurse.”

“I’m afraid you’ll have to make do with me. I was a medic in the navy in my youth though.”

“I’ll take it.”

They shared a brief smile and she got to work.

Rickon had been so relieved to learn that Shireen was safe from Jon but he’d acted surprised when the police had called and said Shireen Baratheon had been found at a sept near Dragon’s Gate. He’d been called down to the station to answer some more questions and Sansa had bid him to go. It would not do for the police to come here tonight.

Staunching the flow of blood, tying off blood vessels, assessing damage…she worked as quickly as she could. She was feeling more confident that no damage had been done to his kidney, that he’d been very fortunate but they’d have to watch for infection.

Jon was unconscious through it all. He’d lost so much blood. It was everywhere, all over the backseat of the limo and probably drops of it in the halls and elevator of her building and in her apartment, all over her bed. She’d have to burn these sheets. At least the rain would wash the rest away.

“He’s so weak. He’s going to need blood,” she whispered in the silence of her bedroom.  She could not say how much time had passed.  She was too tired to look at the time.

Davos was on his knees praying by the bed. Jon was as pale as her sheets had once been. She was so weary and had no strength left to wipe away her tears. Her hands were bloody and it’d only get in her eyes and make it harder to finish her stitches.

“You’ve got a universal donor here if you need it,” a familiar voice said from the doorway of her bedroom.

She turned and her tears fell faster. Her father was standing there with Rickon behind him. She glanced out her window. It was already dawn and her father was already here. And she had a wounded wolf in her bed again.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oof...I'll be writing more action next chapter, I guess. Prayer circle, friends. 
> 
> Okay, I wanted to introduce Sam as the Lucius Fox type character earlier (except nowhere near as smooth) but here he is now at last anyway...lol. 
> 
> Thank you for reading!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you have a marshmallow heart like me, there's some minor angst ahead.
> 
> And please check out the amazing moodboard I've added to the start of the fic that was made by the talented @otp-that-was-promised on Tumblr! Thank you, my dear!!

 

 

The charcoal grey damask curtains of his master suite were thick, nearly as thick has his head had felt when he’d awoke three days ago after getting stabbed in the back. The walls were a lighter shade of grey. He missed the cheerful yellow and calming blue of her room. His seemed very dull to him now and horribly lonely without Sansa.

He glanced at his bedside clock, uncertain at first if it was 2 o’clock in the morning or afternoon.

 _Afternoon_ , he decided after sipping the faintly warm tea Davos had left beside his bed while he’d been sleeping.

He’d barely left his side since they’d returned home until Jon had started shooing him away. He knew the old man worried but sitting by his bed at all hours wouldn’t make him heal any faster.

Speaking of which, his body was healing but he was trying to obey Sansa’s orders for just a little while longer. He could give her that much. _Considering what you’re about to do, it’s little enough._

The story had been given out that Jon Snow had been injured in a single car accident during the same stormy night that Mayor Baratheon’s daughter had reportedly been abducted and later recovered.

A photograph of his regrettably smashed up Lamborghini had been leaked to the press. Sam had had a field day using one of his ‘toys’ on it according to Davos.

Meanwhile, the paps were busy speculating about their favorite billionaire yet again. Had he been intoxicated at the time of the crash? Had there been a coverup involved? When would he be making another public appearance? Was there any truth to those rumors about him being spotted with a supermodel in Braavos last weekend? And, what did his lady friend, Dr. Stark, think of all this?

They could speculate all they liked and, in this particular instance, their gossip worked in his favor since he’d seen to it those tidbits were planted in the first place. Sansa, Davos and Sam knew the truth anyway.

As if he’d summoned him with his thoughts, Davos appeared. “Did you need anything, sir?”

“No, Davos. I’m fine.” Not to be deterred, he came in anyway and fluffed his pillow, making Jon chuckle. It still hurt to do that but he hid his wince. “Thank you, Davos. Thank you for…” _for loving me as well as any father ever could_ “…for everything.”

His brown eyes looked a little moist but he sniffed and carried on with his fluffing. “It’s no trouble, sir.”

“I’ve caused you nothing but trouble since the day you talked me out of my old bedroom off Flour Street.”

Davos ruffled his hair and smiled. “That’s not remotely true but you’ve been worth every bit of trouble you ever gave to me, lad, a thousand times over. Company should be arriving any minute now.”

Davos left the room and Jon’s stomach did a little happy flip at the thoughts of seeing Sansa. She’d been at the hospital working the last two days and he’d told her not to miss over him though he’d missed her terribly.

On the other hand, his stomach bottomed out when he recalled he’d be seeing her father again.

Ned Stark’s face had been the first he’d seen the morning he’d woke up in Sansa’s bed after getting stabbed. Davos hadn’t been in the room and neither had Sansa. He’d recognized the stern face as the one he’d seen in photographs in Sansa’s apartment. He’d never looked half so stern in any of the photographs.

His fingernails had still been crusted with dried blood and his body in agony. He’d tried talking but his throat had been too dry.

 _“Have some water,”_ Mr. Stark had told him, offering a cup with a straw poking out of it.

_“Thank-“_

_“I’m Ned Stark._

_“It’s nice to…”_

_“I guess you have my blood now.”_ He’d indicated this bandaged arm and Jon had looked down at his own.

_“We…uh…thank you? I’m Jon Snow.”_

_“When my wife and I learned Sansa was dating a billionaire, we had some concerns but, I must say, this was not one of the things that occurred to us.”_ His eyes which had been somewhat soft had turned to flint those words.

Jon hadn’t been sure what to think or say. He’d been fuzzyheaded and feeling guilty over how he’d left her the previous night, not to mention the fear that their relationship might put her in harm’s way. _“I…”_

_“Seems like a dangerous little hobby you’ve got, Mr. Snow.”_

_“I’m…”_

_“And an illegal one. He’s awake, Sansa,”_ he’d called towards the bathroom before leaving his chair by the bed and heading into the other room without another word.

_I rescued your son’s girlfriend. Doesn’t that count for something?_

He’d grimaced, knowing that to be a rather feeble endorsement considering what danger Sansa could be in thanks to him.

So, yeah. He’d made quite an impression on his girlfriend’s father, to say the least.

Stannis being Stannis had not taken Lady Melisandre’s failed attempt to control him through his daughter lightly. Shireen had not been able to make a positive ID because of the hooded cloak and Melisandre had not been so foolhardy as to directly reveal herself but Stannis had a pretty good notion who’d been behind things after speaking with his daughter and his wife.

According to the papers, Selyse Baratheon was reportedly visiting a ‘wellness retreat’ for a few weeks. In truth, her physician had found a strange neurotoxin in her blood stream, one that rendered the recipient very malleable to suggestion. He’d asked Sam to look into it and possibly see if he could manufacture an antidote.

_“I’ll need some of it to study.”_

_“I’ll get you some.”_

That would mean getting out of bed…and ignoring his lovely doctor’s orders.

Not one for beating about the bush, Stannis had instructed the authorities to bring Lady Melisandre of Asshai and any of the Shadowbinders in for questioning. So far, she’d not been found but Jon doubted she’d left town. The purification of Westeros starting with Kings Landing probably wasn’t something she was going to just forget about after a one setback. It had sounded like this was a group effort, too. Melisandre might be pulling the strings here but did someone pull her strings?

In other related news, when Stannis had started to question if Night Wolf and the Shadowbinders could possibly be working together in some way, Shireen had quickly set her father straight, telling him that Night Wolf had saved her and she wouldn’t have escaped without him.

_At least, maybe Stannis won’t let Slynt throw away the key now if they catch me._

Jon was nearly certain Shireen knew who he was. She’d shared the story of her escape with Rickon as well as that conversation with her father and then asked Rickon to send him her best wishes for his speedy recovery.

Davos, Sam, Sansa, Rickon, Shireen, Bywater, Ned Stark…his secret wasn’t much of a secret anymore. _Might as well tell Hobb and all of the old neighborhood at this point._

That was bad news for superheroes and crime-fighting antiheroes. The closer the lines came to crossing between his daily persona and his alter ego, the more trouble it could bring and the more danger she could be in.

But did Melisandre suspect the truth? She’d considered Jon Snow a possible convert. Did she still wish to convert him? His money and societal standing would be hard to resist even if she was keeping her head low at the moment.

The bedroom door cracked open and he smiled, dismissing his worries for the moment, when she poked her head in. “Good afternoon. Up for a visit?”

“From you? Always. Is it time for my sponge bath yet?”

She rolled her eyes while closing the door but he knew she wasn’t vexed. “Goodness, it’s dark in here.” She started opening the curtains and, even as he squinted, he’d never complain to her of the brightness. She made his whole world brighter in the best possible way.

As the sunlight filtered in, it set her red hair aflame. Her ivory skin seemed to glow and her eyes were such a piercing, brilliant blue. She was ethereal…angelic in that moment and he was mesmerized all over again just like he’d been the night she’d found him on the sidewalk. His jaw may have dropped.

“Are you alright, Jon?” she asked, noting his look and feeling his forehead.

“I’m fine. You’re just…you’re a sight for sore eyes, Angel.”

A pretty blush blossomed across her cheeks. “Thank you. I dressed up especially for the occasion.” She struck a pose in her scrubs and white lab coat with her hair pulled back in a ponytail like a supermodel. She was more radiant than any of them. He’d know. He’d taken a few of them out once upon a time.

“You’re gorgeous in blue.” She laughed softly and then pulled off her coat and shoes before gingerly lying down beside him. “Did they keep you late?”

“They did.”

“My good doctor works too hard.”

“Your good doctor works as hard as she must. She doesn’t mind, my sweet wolf.”

“I wish I could love my job the way you do.”

“Which one?”

“Either of them.”

She started stroking his beard, her eyes shining with love. He wanted her to stay here the rest of the day, all night, then the next day and the next…but he couldn’t. His stomach twisted uncomfortably. Would she understand what he was about to do? _She will. She’ll hate it as much as I do but she will._

His hand glided along her thigh, up her hip to rest at the small of her back. “I love you, Sansa. I love you more than anything.” The words were poised on his tongue and his heart ached.

If she caught the fervency in his voice, she didn’t comment. She would be reluctant to hear it, he knew. “You can sweet talk me all you like but you’re not getting in my pants today, Mr. Snow. You’re still healing.”

He grinned at her playful tone, figuring he could give her something sweet today if nothing else. “Your pretty dresses are easier for me to get into but I do like you in scrubs.” He deftly untied the drawstring at her waist and savored her gasp when he slipped his hand down the front of them and into her panties.

She rolled her hips against him which completely ruined the effect of her frown and best authoritative doctor’s voice. “Jon, you’re supposed to rest.”

“Nothing’s moving but my hand. That shouldn’t effect my healing one bit, should it?” Whatever meager protests she was thinking up, quickly died as his thumb brushed her clit. She arched her back and moaned. “Oh, there we go.” He traced her folds and murmured darkly in her ear. “I’ve missed you. Has my girl missed me?”

“ _Yes_ …Jon, please…” That was no warning or protest. That was a plea.

“Spread your legs a little wider for me.” Her eyes were dark like sapphires as she complied and he decided this particular shade of blue wasn’t calming for him. It inflamed him. “Relax, Angel. No rain in the forecast today but you’re about to get all wet.”

 

* * *

 

 

 

Ned Stark had been the Chief of Police in Winterfell for the past seven years and a cop for eighteen years prior to that. When his term ended next year, he’d promised his wife that he’d retire from the department and take her on that cruise she’d always wanted to take. He supposed someone like Jon Snow could take Sansa on a cruise twice a month if she liked. He couldn’t say that endeared him to him any.

But, while his official days in law enforcement were numbered, it would always be a part of who he was and when Sansa had called the other night, he’d not hesitated to catch the first flight south.

Rickon’s attack and his friend’s abduction along with the strange and troubling events going on in Kings Landing was extremely worrisome. Finding out Sansa was dating a man who apparently thought it was fun to slap on a mask and chase bad guys for kicks was even more worrisome in some ways. What could a man like that bring her but heartache and trouble in the end?

As a cop, he’d found most vigilantes ranged from the annoying (who often impeded actual police work) to the dangerous (by thinking they were somehow above the law.) And yes, it was more than a little irksome to listen to his youngest son raving about Jon aka Night Wolf like he was some sort of god.

“Detective Bywater, nice to see you again,” he said amiably to a fellow officer as both men waited for the private elevator that would carry them to the penthouse Jon Snow called home.

“Hey, Stark. Good to see you again. I don’t know what it’s like in Winterfell but these digs aren’t exactly in my paygrade,” he said, jerking his chin to indicate the opulent lobby.

“Mine either,” he chuckled.

Bywater seemed alright and quite by the book. They’d met the other morning briefly when he’d come by Sansa’s to check on Snow and ask a few questions. Ned wondered what their connection was. If he knew who Snow was, why was he helping him? He hoped there’d been no bribery involved. He’d be very disappointed to find out his gut was wrong about Bywater. He sort of prided himself on those gut instincts he’d get about people, crafted over the years he’d been on the force.

_And what about Snow?_

He scowled to himself as the elevator started to rise. His gut had been wrong a few times but that was the thing in this case. There hadn’t honestly been anything about Jon that set his teeth on edge other than his money, the rumors about him from the tabloids (and he should know better than to give those too much credit) and Rickon’s case of hero worship.

Sansa was a very smart girl and also a sensible one. If she loved Jon Snow, and clearly she did very much, he should give her some credit and allow that she probably knew what she was getting into with him and deemed him worthy of her love all the same.

With all the activity surrounding the Baratheon girl’s case (which he’d politely offered whatever help they were willing to accept) and Sansa’s work at the hospital, they’d not had much time for a father-daughter chat since he’d arrived. Maybe that was a mistake.

Had he allowed his own judgment to be impaired in this case? Was it his offended sensibilities as a cop over an unorthodox crimefighter or his worries as a father over his daughter dating someone the papers labeled a playboy that had turned him against the kid so decidedly even as he’d watched his own blood flowing out of his arm and into Jon’s unconscious body?

_Probably both._

Admittedly, he didn’t really know much about Jon beyond the papers. Kings Landing wasn’t a place he thought of every day up in Winterfell beyond the fact that it was currently home to two of his five children. And, he’d not paid all that much attention to some tycoon with suspicious business dealings in the past or his kid who’d inherited more money than a dozen people could spend in a lifetime before his 20th birthday.

“Boy, oh boy…if Lyanna could see where her son lives now,” Bywater snickered under his breath.

“Lyanna?”

“Sorry. Jon’s mother. I met her years ago…after the hand.” He held up the prosthetic that had replaced the one he’d lost on the job. It was impressive he’d continued to serve. Most guys would’ve taken a medical pension and called quits. “Thought I’d have to step down but I didn’t want to. The job is all I have, you know? It’s just me.” Ned understood that well enough. He had a family but he knew guys like Bywater. Without the badge, they felt directionless and like they’d lost their identity. “Anyway, Lyanna said she didn’t see why a cop necessarily have to have two hands since donuts were a one-handed food.”

Ned laughed despite himself. “Was she a psychologist or…”

“Lyanna Snow? Nah, she was a nurse.”

“Oh.” He’d not expected that. “My wife’s a nurse.”

“Really? Well, Lyanna and Jon lived in Flea Bottom and I had the beat there. Tough neighborhood to grow up in but he’s a great kid.”

“He grew up in Flea Bottom?”

Ned might not know Kings Landing like the back of his hand but he knew enough about the capital. And he knew apartments in Flea Bottom were on the opposite end of the spectrum from the building they were in right now. He knew about the crime rate in that part of town, too. He’d probably seen plenty as a kid around the old neighborhood.

“Yeah. Can you imagine? Dad owned half the city and did nothing but the bare minimum for his own kid until he was forced to acknowledge his existence. Then, Lyanna died when Jon was twelve and…how much you know about Jon anyway?”

“Not enough, it seems.”

 

* * *

 

 

 _“Oh, gods…oh, gods…Jon…”_ She shuddered with the final crest of her climax. He was talented with those fingers of his. “Good thing your hand wasn’t hurt the other night.”

“Or my tongue,” he said cheekily as his raked it across her nipple one more time.

“Yes.” Her fingers were twisted through his curls and all she could do was smile dopily at him, feeling boneless and languid after the handjob. “Gods, I…”

“You needed that.”

“I needed that.” They laughed quietly together. She regretted that she couldn’t do much for him in his current state.

“It’s the least I could do after all your tender, loving care the past few days and after all the trouble I cause you.”

“You? Trouble? No way.” He smirked but she could see the doubt and worry in his eye. She wished he wouldn’t doubt. She knew what he was thinking, too. “Jon, you’re not…”

A rapping at the bedroom door made her yelp before she could say anything else. “Sir? Your other guests are here.”

“Thank you, Davos. Give us a minute,” he replied, cool as a cucumber.

Meanwhile, she was hurriedly adjusting her scrubs like a busted teenager, her cheeks on fire with the knowledge that others, one of which was her father, were on the other side of that unlocked door.

He licked his fingers like the wicked man he was but, when she started towards the door, he grasped her wrist to stop her and his face grew serious. “Sansa, we’re going to talk about how to catch her today.”

“I know. You told me that’s why you wanted to meet with everyone.”

“I did but there’s something else I need to say to just you.”

He stroked her palm with his thumb and gazed at her so sincerely. She’d cry if he did this now. “Later…tell me after, alright?”

He gulped and nodded. It felt like a heavy stone was already forming inside her chest as she opened the bedroom door.

 

Fifteen minutes later, they were all seated around Jon’s bed, the bed that he wouldn’t be staying in much longer, she knew. Her father, Detective Bywater, Davos and Samwell Tarly.

Rickon would’ve wanted to be here if he’d known about this meeting but Rickon was much better off attending class and staying well away from this. _One dare-doing loved one is enough for me to handle._

Shireen was back on campus and going to classes too but feeling more than a little stymied by the bodyguards her father had hired to follow her around…everywhere.

“He’s trying to protect his daughter,” her father said in defense of Stannis.

“I know but it’s frustrating when a loved one makes all the decisions regarding your safety for you without seeking any input from you.” Jon would not meet her eye when she said it. Neither would her father. They were going to have a talk soon and she’d make it very clear to him what Jon was to her.

Detective Bywater was doing his own form of protecting but it was costing him the trust of his superiors. “They know I had a tip that night. They know Night Wolf was involved. I’m repeating ‘I’m protecting my informant’ until I’m blue in the face but they’re getting tired of my excuses.”

“I don’t want to cause you trouble.”

“I know, Jon. Don’t worry over me. I’ll tell them I need a few days off if it gets too hot around the precinct. One things for sure, I won’t be ratting you out to that shady, frog-faced Slynt. What would your mother say about that, Jon Snow?” he laughed.

“She’d still probably be more pissed at me than you.”

“You mean the chief of police?” her father asked.

“Yeah, him,” Bywater said sourly.

Sam Tarly raised his hand, reminding Sansa of a shy but bright student trying to speak at a lecture hall. “I did some snooping like you asked, Jon.”

“Snooping?” Bywater asked.

“Hacking…on the computer. Sorry,” he said, shooting apologetic glances towards her father and him.

They both shrugged. If Bywater was anything like her father, Sam might as well be speaking another language when he started talking computers.

The brilliant, mild-mannered man had been introduced to her just yesterday. She liked him already. She’d like to get to know him better. She’d like to hear more about the sorts of things he made for Jon, too. _Gods help us if Rickon ever meets you._

“And, what did you find, Sam?”

“The money’s not endless, not at all. There’s pressure from Volantis. She gets regular calls and emails asking about progress. She’s stalling them. There’s something they’re calling the Flame of Truth and it might be the neurotoxin that was used on Mrs. Baratheon. Apparently, it’s expensive to manufacture but also important. I shudder to think what they might be planning to do with it.”

“Probably planning to do more than use it on the mayor’s wife anyway.”

“I think she’ll definitely be willing to come out of hiding for a shot at you.”

“A shot at you?” Sansa scowled. “What does that mean? Jon, you’re not going after her as the wolf again, are you?”

“No. I very much hope she’s not connected Night Wolf to me or else my plan will go up in flames in a hurry.” She grimaced. “Sorry. Bad choice of expressions. No, I’m going to let her come after me as Jon Snow. That was part of the necessity of the rumors and the car. So, this is the plan…”

Sansa hated the plan. She didn’t want him anywhere near that woman again. She was a zealot and probably more than a little crazy. Not to mention, Sansa still got mad just thinking about the night at the charity ball and how forward she’d been with Jon.

However, it wasn’t a bad plan. If she was desperate enough for funding and being pressured to find a high profile convert to help move along their so-called agenda, Lady Melisandre could kill two birds in one stone if she brought Jon Snow into the fold.

Still, it was dangerous. There were several factors that could go wrong with this plan. What if Lady Melisandre already knew he was Night Wolf and set him up? What if her goons used that neurotoxin on him? What if the cavalry was slow arriving when Jon called for their aid? What if Sam’s nondetectable listening device wasn’t so nondetectable?

_What if he gets hurt again and I’m not there?_

Davos had been silent throughout the talk of his plan. They shared a look and she knew he hated the plan as much as she did. She’d take some comfort in that.

The next part would bring her no comfort at all though.

“Sansa…” he said miserably after everyone else had filed out of the room. “To do this, I’ll have to play a role and I can’t say how long it will take to gain her trust to even meet with me, let alone share something damning that the cops can use. I’ll need to pretend I’m completely convinced. I can’t let her know how much you mean to me. I have to…” He trailed off, unable to finish.

She felt sick but knew in her heart this was the last thing he wanted to do. She could make it easy for him. “We’re breaking up. Until she’s caught, we’re through.”

Maybe she’d made it a little easier for him and maybe that wasn’t the real truth but that hadn’t been easy. In fact, it was the hardest thing she’d ever done.

“Sansa, I’m…I never want to be through with you.”

If he apologized or tried to hold her now, she’d crack and beg him to reconsider. But, Melisandre was a threat to all of Kings Landing and Sansa had known what she was getting into with Jon from the start.

She kissed him quickly on the cheek before moving out of his reach so he couldn’t grasp her wrist a second time. Even if this was a pretend breakup, it felt very much like a breakup, the worst breakup she could ever imagine.

She only felt strong enough to turn back to him once she’d reached to door. “Good luck, my wolf.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so my outline from back in April didn't quite take into account everything I wanted to say in the final chapter sooooo...there'll be another chapter! But the final chapter's already about 70% done so I'll do my best to post it this week.  
> I'm very eager to finish this story (and Skirling) so I can start sharing some newer stuff. Thank you for bearing with me!! 
> 
> And don't worry, Papa Ned will come around just fine before long :)
> 
>  


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy Bat Signal, this chapter is LONG! Hoping those of you enjoying this tale won't mind that and at least I managed to finish it :)
> 
> Brief warning: Jon's getting propositioned in this chapter by Crazy/Creepy Mel. And for my fellow marshmallow hearts, Sansa's going to be pretty blue during the first half but that will be changing for the better, I promise.
> 
> Also, I totally borrowed elements of Ra's Al Ghul's scheme from 'Batman Begins' for my villain here.

 

 

This was the most awesome night ever. If only he could take a selfie and share it with some of his friends back in Winterfell. _At least I can tell Shireen about it._

The one-of-a-kind black jumpsuit with the snarling wolf insignia was so cool. It was a bit short in the leg since Jon was shorter than him but the boots covered that. His chest, shoulders and arms didn’t fill it out quite the same as Jon did either but overall, Rickon thought he looked fucking amazing in it. He had the utility belt with all the gadgets and the reengineered commlink in his ear and soon he’d mask up.

Only one thing could’ve made this night even more awesome.

“Can I borrow the motorcycle next time?”

“There’s not going to be a next time, lad,” Davos sighed. “And even if there were, it’d still be no on the bike.”

Rickon frowned but had figured he’d be told that. If it was up to Sansa, he probably wouldn’t be getting to do this even but tonight, he had a job to do that could help Jon. So if this was his one shot at being Night Wolf, he’d take it.

And, there was something else that could make this night even more awesome.

“Can I borrow the mask for when I go see Shireen later?” Davos’ eyebrows climbed up his forehead. “Shireen sort of has an, um…interest in, uh…”

Davos’ eyebrows climbed even higher and Rickon felt his face heating up.

A gruff voice came through the commlink in his ear. “You all set, PJ Masks?”

“Shadow Wolf,” he groaned. “I’m Shadow Wolf.”

“Yeah, yeah. Are you all set, kid?”

“All set here, Captain Hook.”

“Alright. Papa Wolf’s in place and our lucky pap has been spotted. Mask up, Shadow Wolf. It’s almost show time.”

“Got it.”

He was grinning like a goof as he pulled the mask off the seat beside him. Granted, it did feel a bit like he was a kid getting dropped off at a costume party sitting in the front seat of the limo with Davos but this was serious business they were about tonight. And Shireen would be totally turned on if he was able to borrow the wolf mask for the night…he hoped.

“This isn’t a game, Rickon,” Davos said quietly from the driver’s side.

“I know.”

“They just need to see you and get some video but they can’t get too close and you can’t get caught.”

“I know. Look, this is really cool but I’m here because I want to help Jon, okay? I want that witch caught for what she did to Shireen and all the crazy shit she’s involved in. Her men could’ve killed Jon that night and he saved Shireen. I want to help him so he can be back with Sansa again.” His sister wasn’t saying much but he knew she was very sad right now and Rickon absolutely hated for Sansa to be sad.

“You’re very brave to do this, Rickon.”

“Thanks, Dadvos.”

“Dadvos?”

“Yeah, you’re like the valet who's also the dad. I mean, not my dad because my dad’s parked just down the street and will probably be ready to chew my ass out if I do anything stupid but…yeah, you’re The Dad. Anyway, everyone else has a code name so you should have one, too.”

The old man started laughing and ruffled his hair. “Thank you. Now, get going, Shadow Wolf.”

“Fuck yeah!”

 

* * *

 

 

  
  
“Drugs, huh?” Slynt said, tossing the sealed plastic bag up in the air and catching it.

“Well, in a sense…” Melisandre said cagily.

“And the Lord of Light nonsense is just a cover?”

 _Not remotely_. However, taking over Rattleshirt’s drug smuggling racket had been contributing to the funds for their mission. _Sometimes, one has to get their hands a little dirty to cleanse the rest of the world._ “Can we make a little arrangement perhaps, Chief?”

Slynt put the bag back down and grinned that smarmy smile of his. “20% of your profits and my cops will be busy elsewhere.”

She hid her grimace. In his case, she supposed she should be grateful he was only asking for money. “Very well.”

Getting squeezed for more money right now was the last thing she needed but what choice did she have until they were ready to spread the Truth? She’d dealt with plenty of creeps like him on both sides of the law in the past and she could tolerate Janos Slynt.

_For a little while anyway. Once I’ve shown you the light, I’ll make you walk down the streets of Kings Landing naked croaking like a frog while the people throw rotten food at you._

“Alright, boys,” Slynt called to his fellow dirty cops. “Nothing to see here. Let’s let the lady and her business associates continue their good deeds and pack it up for tonight.”

Just as the last of them had left, Kinvara slipped in the backdoor. “He’s back at the temple again tonight.”

“Again?”

Kinvara nodded and Melisandre wondered what this was all about. Jon Snow had come to the temple for services twice already. The ritual took over an hour and he’d stayed the whole time. He’d hung towards the back and slipped out as soon as the service ended but he’d been there, three times this would make. One of her other spies had said he was carrying one of her books with him as well. What was she to make of Jon Snow’s sudden interest in R’hllor and his teachings? And could it benefit her?

“If he comes again, I want you to speak to him, Kinvara. See if you can get him to open up a bit but don’t get too pushy. He’s not the sort of man who’ll appreciate it.”

“As you wish, my lady.”

She’d thought Stannis had been the one who would give her the opening she needed. He’d disappointed her more than once being so inflexible and stubborn. Selyse’s faith had not been strong enough, nor had her hold on her husband’s affections.

The girl had seemed like the key to getting him to submit at last. But then Night Wolf had come along and ruined her plans.

Night Wolf…who was he? What was he? An agent of darkness. She hated the darkness but there was power in shadows and the night.

_Night Wolf was there that night and now Jon Snow comes to the temple._

That could mean something or nothing. She’d need to be cautious.

_But if he’s not Night Wolf…_

Oh, that was tempting. Things were getting dire, fiscally speaking. Jon Snow was a younger, and far richer alternative to Stannis and practically on her doorstep already.

After their initial meeting, she’d nearly despaired of befriending Jon Snow though she’d very much wanted to. Westerosi men could be a little old-fashioned when it came to her combination of frankness and sexuality though. They were forever chasing women but when confronted with a woman who enjoyed a good chase as well, they would often balk. No matter. She found him desirable but she didn’t need that to make use of him. There was something about Jon Snow, some feral, untapped potential. He might become a very useful follower, a powerful tool for the lord once he’d been thoroughly indoctrinated.

What was he seeking at the temple? Was he a lost soul trying to find his way back to the light?

The tabloids had said his lady doctor had dumped him after rumors surfaced of him being caught with another woman. Not surprising given his image. He’d been in an auto accident after a night of heavy drinking around that time, she’d heard as well.

A man adrift…the easiest sort to turn. Thankfully, this one could also fund a small army with his pocket change. If Jon Snow needed some guidance or a purpose, Melisandre would happily give it to him.

_But if he’s Night Wolf…_

“Would you look at that?” one of her Fiery Warriors was chuckling at the television.

She scowled. They were here to keep the workers at their task making the Flame of Truth but he was watching TV with his feet up on her desk.

“Would I look at what?” she asked sternly.

“That Night Wolf guy.”

“What?”

She walked around the desk to stare at the television. The clip was probably all of twelve seconds and playing on a loop but some reporter had recorded the fool over in Flea Bottom chasing some would-be car thief less than an hour ago. He was dashing down the street after some taller man in a ski mask. He turned and flashed the peace sign at the cameraman just before he disappeared around a corner, the cheeky shit.

If Night Wolf was chasing crooks in Flea Bottom and Jon Snow was at the temple for tonight’s service, they couldn’t be one in the same, could they?

That suited Melisandre’s plans very well.

 

* * *

 

 

 

**Jon Snow returns to work at Targaryen Industries after a short stint in rehab.**

 

**Sources say Jon Snow’s taking an interest in Eastern religion after his recent struggles.**

 

**Jon Snow spied with new beauty on his arm at charity event.**

 

 

That last one had hurt…a lot.

Sansa laid her head down on the table where she was supposed to be eating her lunch. She had no appetite after reading that and seeing the photo to go with it.

A lovely brunette was plastered to his side in a lowcut red dress. She was wearing a ruby necklace just like the one Lady Melisandre had been wearing at a different charity event weeks and weeks ago, back when they’d been happy and together.

Sansa knew the mystery woman must be part of the Shadowbinders but did she have to be so damn gorgeous? And, her gazing up at him in his tailored suit and him smiling back at her? She knew his smiles well and this one wasn’t the same as the ones he gave only to her but it still stung to see it.

“Hey, doc?” Randa said, poking her head in.

“You need me?”

“No, we’re good but your dad’s dropped by to see you.”

“Oh, okay. Thanks.”

She pasted on a smile for her father. He would be leaving to head home soon although he planned to return whenever he received word that they were close to catching Melisandre.

She knew he couldn’t stay indefinitely but she’d sorely miss his company at the apartment. Rickon was sweet trying to cheer her but he was young and in love. She couldn’t blame him for staying busy with Shireen most nights instead of hanging out with his mopey big sister.

It was a good thing her profession kept her very busy when she was here. But when she wasn’t busy, her mind loved tormenting her with questions over Jon. Most of them centered around his safety and what he was doing but there’d been a shameful few that had questioned if he might truly be moving on with his life the way the papers made it sound. He wasn’t. He couldn’t be. But what if? Gods, she hated this so much.

_Thank the gods for Davos._

The faithful friend and valet had been sending her discrete messages to let her know that Jon was well and sent his love. Not an email or phone call. That might’ve been too dangerous if Melisandre still had questions regarding Sansa Stark.

No, instead she’d found a vase of flowers on her doorstep at home along with a note one evening when she’d been returning from work.

_Daisies to cheer my dear friend. Forget-me-nots from one who loves and misses you._

That first time her heart had been thumping so hard when she’d seen the flowers. She’d turned around as soon as she’d picked them up, hoping to see him standing behind her like that day he’d asked her out at the hospital. But he was not there. The handwriting was not Jon’s and she’d realized it was Davos’. Jon must’ve given him the key to her building at one point.

She’d enjoyed the flowers and then placed the exquisite vase back on her doorstep the next day with a message of her own.

_Freesia for the trust I place in him. Violets for your loyal heart, kind friend._

They’d been taken and then replaced by another bouquet and note a few days later.

Thus, an exchange of information had begun, no matter that it was vague and brief. She knew that Jon was well and that he missed her. She knew he was getting closer to meeting with Melisandre and that the other woman was merely working to help ‘convert’ him. It was little enough but it was something at least.

“Dad? What brings you here?”

“Thought we’d have lunch if you’re available.”

“I’d love to.” _Don’t know if I’ll feel like eating but at least I’ll have your company._

She was shocked to say the least when he drove her over to Hobb’s a few blocks away and ordered the loaded fries.

“Dad?”

“These were highly recommended to me by a friend,” he said, looping some cheddar cheese around his finger. “He suggested I split an order of them with you.”

Her eyes started welling up with unwanted tears and her father passed her his handkerchief. “You’ve seen him?” she sniffled.

Her father had been helping Bywater and a few of his friends in Internal Affairs with some things after posing as a would-be car thief a few weeks ago for Shadow Wolf to ‘chase’ on the late night news. But she shouldn’t be surprised that he was working on Melisandre’s case as well or that he’d managed to see Jon.

“Only briefly but yeah.”

“I want to see him.”

“I know, sweetheart. He wants to see you, too, but your safety comes first for him and, as your father, I have to approve of that.” Her father scratched at his beard with an uncharacteristically sheepish expression. “He’s a good man, Sansa.”

“I told you so.”

“I know. Your old dad wasn’t giving him nor you enough credit. I’m sorry.”

“You’re forgiven.”

“Good because here comes my peace offering to go along with the recommended appetizer,” he smiled as Hobb delivered a milkshake with lots of whipped cream and cherries on top.

“My favorite sort of peace offering,” she hummed, happily plucking a cherry from the cream.

 _“Mine, too,”_ she could almost hear Jon saying in that deep, husky voice of his as she recalled all the ways they’d enjoyed whipped cream and various fruits in the past. Naturally, she wasn’t about to tell her father any of that.

She finished wiping her eyes and chased the sweet treat down with the cheesy, bacony fries. They were far too tasty to just sit there and maybe she could allow herself to drown her sorrows in carbs and sugar just for today anyway.

 

* * *

 

 

 

“Benerro grows impatient to hear of progress, Melisandre.”

Melisandre rolled her eyes and would like to reach through the phone and strangle her unwelcome caller. Moqorro was never very civil.

“Why doesn’t Benerro call to say as much then?”

“He’s busy.”

“Well, you can tell him I’m busy getting ready to meet with someone that might turn the tide in our favor irrevocably.”

“Jon Snow?”

Melisandre scowled. She enjoyed surprising others when she knew things she wasn’t supposed to know. She was not a fan when it happened to her.

 _Kinvara_ , she thought angrily.

The young woman sought to usurp her authority and tell her secrets just because she’d been the one in contact with Jon Snow. That would change after tonight. Whatever attachment Kinvara thought they’d developed simply because they’d attended temple services and a few social events together would soon be at an end. Jon Snow would be _her_ convert, _her_ follower…and maybe more.

“Yes, Jon Snow.” One of her Fiery Warriors knocked at the door. “And here he is now.”

She hung up before Moqorro could say more and adjusted her necklace before smoothing down her red wrap dress. They’d only met in person twice for a short time since he’d started coming but she was getting so close with him, she could tell.

His newfound zeal for their faith to one side, Kinvara had reported he’d been disappointingly chaste, not offering so much as a kiss goodnight when he’d drop her back off at the temple after their outings.

 _“Maybe he prefers redheads,”_ she’d said in a cutting tone.

It might be true. When it came to herself, he was always watching her every move intently whenever they were in the same room. She could feel it. It was almost predatory the way he looked at her. It excited her in a way that few men could anymore.

 _“I’ve thought about our talk that night at the ball,”_ he’d said the other night when they’d met briefly behind the flames of the temple’s altar. _“I know I was rude to you. I’m sorry, my lady. At the time, I’d thought there was something I was…but it doesn’t matter now. I think we might share some similar ideas about change. This city, it’s so corrupt and so many are content to let it stay that way.”_

_“And you’re not content with that?”_

_“No.”_

_“It’s easy for the wealthy to ignore such things.”_

_“That’s not me. There’s a lot of bad that goes unpunished here. My father’s death goes unpunished to this day.”_

_“This is true and it is a great shame. Your father’s killers should know the Lord’s fire and hate for such acts. But not all of the unworthy have to be punished. If they could only be shown the light, Jon Snow, they could serve the Lord and find their deliverance.”_

_“That sounds nice but some people won’t ever change. I’ve tried.”_

_“To change others or yourself?”_

_“Myself…others. I’m trying to build a bridge but it’s like I’m throwing money into quicksand. It’s…”_

_“It’s very frustrating, I know. But, there’s more than one solution available for leading the lost back into the Lord’s light.”_

_“Like what?”_

The batches of the Flame of Truth would lead the people back to the light. Burnings and intimidation worked on a smaller scale but the neurotoxin unleashed on the city would be so much simpler. If only they could get the needed funds to finish manufacturing it.

“Come in,” she purred after opening the door to her private office.

The warehouse her Warriors had managed to take possession of by strong-arming some of the local thugs was not as nicely appointed as her offices had been at Lightbringer Books. It was a shame but better here than caught by any do-gooders not on Slynt’s gravy train.

He was wearing glasses and dressed in a suit and tie as if this was a business meeting. It was in a sense. “Please, take a seat.”

“I didn’t bring money but Kinvara said you needed…”

She tutted and poured two glasses of wine. “I didn’t ask about money. Where are your courtesies, Jon Snow?”

He looked about nervously, adjusting his glasses. “I’m sorry. I’m…I’ve never done anything like this.”

“You’ve never been blindfolded and driven to an unknown location in the dark of night before? Sounds like you could use a little more excitement in your night life, Jon Snow.”

He smiled wryly. “I was referring to the legal ramifications of…”

“Man’s laws do not concerns us. Only the Lord’s law matters, Jon Snow. Only he can lead us from the darkness. Let the light illuminate his shining path…”

“…for the night is dark and full of terrors,” he finished.

“Very good. Take a seat, please. Did you check him?” she asked the man who’d escorted him. Her man would’ve been quite thorough. No wonder Jon Snow looked nervous.

“No bugs on him, my lady,” he said and she bade him to leave them alone.

She sipped her wine and waited for him to do the same. He trusted her enough to drink with her. That was a good and, as the quiet stretched on, he began to relax. As much as she enjoyed making men uncomfortable for a change, she figured he’d be more receptive if he wasn’t so nervous.

He pushed his glasses up his nose and set his wine glass aside. “As I was saying earlier, I didn’t bring money but I’m curious about this drug Kinvara mentioned and your need for it.”

“Medicine, Jon Snow. It’s a cure. We’re saving the peoples’ souls.”

She sat on the edge of her desk in front of him, spreading her legs an inch or so beyond ladylike decorum. She smiled when his eyes flickered that way.

“Uh…right,” he gulped.

 

* * *

 

 

  
  
Of course, she wouldn’t have worn any underwear. Seven hells, this couldn’t just be simple, could it?

He’d thought they might avoid a repeat of her behavior at the ball but maybe not. Lady Melisandre seemed to labor under the delusion that all men were controlled by their cocks. It was bad enough playing the role of a sheep when he was a wolf but now she was going to flash him and he was supposed to feign interest.

He wondered if the peep show would draw Sam’s attention away from his video gaming while waiting on the signal.

The microscopic camera built into his glasses frames would be capturing everything in front of him. A simple pair of frames that housed the camera, a tiny microphone, a GPS tracking device and a button to call in the cavalry when he was ready, Samwell Tarly really was a wizard and James Bond would’ve been lucky to have a genius like him in his corner. _And they’re not even all that bad looking on me._

Mentally berating himself not to cringe or look away, he licked his lips before turning his eyes back to her face with an expression he hoped resembled a starving man at a feast.

 _Wrong shade of red and definitely the wrong woman,_ his mind taunted him. That would not do right now. He was so close to having what they needed and being done with this charade.

 _“We might catch her anyway, Jon,”_ Bywater had said the night before last where they’d met briefly behind Hobb’s. “ _Your friend Tarly’s tips I passed along have the boys in cybercrimes very busy.”_

_“I want her locked away for good. I want to know that we get all that toxin, too. I want to know Sansa and everyone else is safe.”_

_“You can keep Sansa safe, Jon. Let us worry about the rest of it.”_ He’d been overwhelmed to hear those words coming from Ned Stark’s mouth.

_“Thank you, Ned…but she’s going to show me where they’re making and storing it. It might be our best chance to round the whole operation up.”_

Their best chance would sorely test him, it seemed.

Melisandre hopped down from her desk and paced slowly towards him.

“So, is this the place you keep the, uh…”

She stopped right in front of him, loosening the ties of her dress that was apparently made like a bathrobe except much slinkier. He closed his eyes when he saw the fabric part revealing no undergarments at all.

_You may need to do some editing, Sam._

“I mean, the medicine you’ve spoken of which would, uh…help…”

She straddled his lap, causing him to open his eyes again. Her dress had fallen to the sides, leaving absolutely nothing to the imagination. She was beautiful and lethal and he was in way over his head when it came to this sort of game.

She cupped his face, leaning forward. “My lady, I’m…”

He needed to be convincing, needed to show her he had bought into their ideas and plans completely and that he’d be faithful to their cause but all he could think about was the woman he’d rather have sitting in his lap right now, the only one he wanted to kiss and or hold and how he couldn’t possibly betray her this way.

Kinvara had given him an open invitation but not pressed him too hard to take her up on it. Melisandre obviously preferred a more straightforward approach. If he rejected her, would she be bitterly offended or laugh it off? It was so hard to tell with her.

His eyes were flitting this way and that while his heart and mind tried to think of a way out of this situation when she took one of his hands in hers, drawing it towards her bare breast. It was just a breast and he’d touched his share of them in his lifetime but he couldn’t do this, not to Sansa. No matter how much he meant to protect her, it felt like he was always on the verge of hurting her lately. He couldn’t stand it and he wouldn’t do this, not even if it endangered his mission.

He snatched his hand back as if she’d been drawing it towards an open flame, swallowing hard when he dared meet her eyes again.

“Afraid of girls, Jon Snow?” she smirked. He shook his head. “Afraid of me?”

“A little, my lady.” There was truth in that at least and it seemed to please her. “I’m…”

“Still in love with Sansa Stark?”

“I…” His heart was thundering in his chest. Would lying be wise or not in this case? He opted for truth. Melisandre seemed to have a talent for winkling it out of people anyway. “I am.”

She rose from his lap and fastened her dress again. “Very well. I sensed a great deal of conflict within you and wasn’t certain what the cause was. But no hard feelings. Business mixed with pleasure is nice but this can remain simply business.” He started to relax until she added, “Perhaps Dr. Stark can assist us even.”

His heart was pounding harder now. “What do you mean?”

“You told Kinvara she left you. What if we could convince her to take you back?”

He prayed for a steady voice when he answered. “I’m grateful for your concern, my lady, but I’d rather leave her out of this.”

“No one can remain out of this, Jon. Everyone must see the light…one way or another.”

The words chilled him through and through. He had to end this tonight. “Yes, my lady. I’ll remember. But for now, I’d thought we were here to talk about something else. I want to serve you and our lord, my lady. I want to help your cause but, as a businessman, I’d like to know what I’m investing in first.”

“Of course. This way,” she said, motioning him forward with a wave her manicured nails.

There were dozens and dozens of containers housed in the room she led him to, roughly half of them appeared empty.

“How much is there?”

“Enough for a quarter of the populace. We’d like enough for half at least.”

“The cost?”

“Six million dragons.”

He chuckled as if that was nothing at all. It was nothing for him and he didn’t entirely like admitting that. “Six million shouldn’t be a problem. The people must be saved.” Her red eyes seemed to flare with triumph and he supposed her superior would be happy when she reported in next. “So, you finish making your…medicine. And then what happens?”

“We cure them by showing them all the light.”

“Through mind control?”

“That’s a crude way to put it but yes, it does render the user more open to suggestion, more willing to see the truth.”

“Is there a way to counteract it?”

“If there is, we’ve not looked into is yet. Why would we?”

“Right. But what if you can’t get them to take it?”

“They won’t know they’re taking it. We’re going to add it to the city’s water supply before any of them suspect a thing.”

“But that means they don’t get to choose the light.”

“Change sometimes requires decisive action.” She turned her eyes back towards him and he knew better than to disagree.

“Of course. Is the medicine…dangerous?”

“The side effects are rare but occasionally serious.” She shrugged as if that was just a gnat buzzing in her ear. “But once half the people are on our side and have taken up the Lord’s cause, it should be easy to either convert or eliminate the rest.”

“And once Kings Landing has seen the light?”

“The rest of Westeros can be illuminated as well.”

“That’s amazing.” She smiled, obviously pleased by the praise. “Mind control through chemical weapons used on millions of people without their knowledge or consent all so they can embrace your beliefs but in truth be slaves to you and your leader’s will?”

“Well, I wouldn’t necessarily put it…”

“It’s diabolical, downright psychotic really.”

"What?”

He tapped the button on the side of his glasses that resembled a screw. “We’re good here, fellas,” he said, fervently hoping Bywater and his men would be as quick as he claimed and hoping Sam had got every bit of that conversation recorded.

“Jon…oh, Jon,” she said in disappointment as she heard the shouts from outside. “I’d thought you might’ve seen the light. I’d thought…”

He leaned forward, giving her his most wolfishly charming smile. “I already told you, my lady…I prefer the dark.”

Her eyes widened and she snarled, “You!”

“Yeah, me.” He took her firmly by the wrist. “And you’re not getting away this time.”

The lights went out in the next instant as gunfire erupted from nearby.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

The thunder rolled in the distance and Sansa sought another restless night’s sleep. Over a month had passed since she’d seen Jon, the most depressing month of her life and more stressful than medical school in some ways.

Speaking with Davos via flowers helped but it did not make the loneliness any easier to bear or make waiting for something to happen much more tolerable.

Randa and the others at work had been very sympathetic after the papers had published more than a few pictures of Jon and that other woman but she’d found their sympathy, though well meant, stifling.

She’d wanted to shout that he didn’t love that woman, that he hadn’t been unfaithful to her in the first place and that they weren’t really finished. She’d wanted to defend him, to tell them he wasn’t an alcoholic or some loony-toon religious nut.

But, she couldn’t tell them anything.

And when a few of the other women at work had started dropping hints that this hot paramedic had been checking her out or that young doctor had been asking around about her and repeating that old chestnut about how the best way to get over somebody was to get under somebody else, she’d behaved frostily until they’d decided to leave her alone for a time.

She could hear the start of the downpour outside her window and remembered that first night she’d met him on the sidewalk and helped treat his wounds in this bed. She recalled their first date and the rain chasing them from the drive-in and back here where they’d spent the night and then the morning making love. She remembered that last storm when he’d rescued Shireen and all the anxiety she’d born while tending him once again in her bedroom.

It’d been very dry in Kings Landing lately. The rain would be welcome. It might cover the sounds of her sobs better in the dead of night.

But before she could give into that urge to cry, her buzzer rang.

Who would be calling so late? Not Rickon and not Davos with his flowers.

With her heart racing, she ran to the buzzer to answer. “Yes?”

“Sansa…”

She knew his voice at once but it was hard to tell his tone through the electronic speaker. Was he alright? Had he succeeded? Or had he failed and was coming to her because he was battered and bleeding?

“Gods, come up!” she shouted, smashing the button to let him in the building, her entire body shaking, torn between apprehension and excitement to see him.

She started pacing but before her slow ass elevator could’ve possibly brought him to the 4th floor, she threw open her front door and stepped into the hallway. She saw him turn the corner from the stairwell less than a second later.

He was drenched from the rain and there was blood dripping down his face. “Oh gods, oh gods…”

“I’m alright, see? Just a scratch,” he croaked as she leapt into his arms.

He sat her back down and she inspected the gash above his eye more closely. “Fingernails?”

“Came close to taking out my eye before they could get the cuffs on her.”

“That bitch!”

He chuckled and shook his head as she dabbed at his wound. “Would you have clawed her eyes out over me, my wolf girl?”

“I…oh, Jon!” she cried, falling into his arms again before she noticed the bouquet her sweet wolf was holding.

That awful stone of loneliness she’d been carrying in her chest for over a month was already rapidly melting away. He was here and he was alright.

Pressing the flowers into her hands, he walked her back inside the apartment, shutting the door behind him. He framed her face with his now free hands as the first of her tears of joy and relief fell.

“Red roses are for romantic love…I love you, I love you, I love you, my darling doctor.” A soft kiss followed. “Forget-me-nots are too but they’re also for remembrance and devotion. Though we’ve been parted, I never want you to doubt my devotion, my love or that you’re always foremost in my thoughts.” Another kiss, a little more heated this time.

“And the daisies?”

“Because you love them and they’re cheerful and I’m cheerful and I love them because you love them and…”

She cut him off with a kiss initiated by her this time.

Hot and sweet and oh, so hungry, they tried to fit a month’s worth of kissing into a handful of minutes by her door until she could take no more.

“Come on. Let’s get you out of those wet clothes, see to that eye and get you in my bed.”

“May I come to your bed, Angel? May I stay all night?” he asked with that sweet vulnerability.

“Of course, you may come to my bed and stay all night. And Jon…you must never leave it again.”

His vulnerable look evaporated to be replaced by one of desire mixed with some playfulness. “But don’t you want to hear about the heroics of KLPD’s finest tonight with an assist by Winterfell’s top cop as they apprehended a…”

“Later,” she said, tugging at her wolf’s hand and laying the flowers aside in the kitchen before pressing a sterile cloth to his eye.

The bleeding had already stopped and, when she reached for some bandages, he stilled her hands. “Later,” he said huskily.

His eyes were dark as the night when he walked her backwards to her bedroom. He quickly tugged her camisole over her head as she helped him out of his wet jacket and dress shirt. The bed bounced as he lightly pushed her back onto it. Her breath was coming in quick pants and a fierce, sweet ache filled her as he stripped out of his remaining clothes and then he pulled her pajama pants off. He climbed onto the bed, kissing his way up from her ankle.

“So sweet, every inch of my angel,” he murmured.

“Hurry, Jon. I need you.”

He crawled over her, hovering above her as she spread her legs for him. Her hands roamed his damp flesh before cupping his ass and guiding him to her center.

“I’ve missed this. I’ve missed you,” he moaned as he sank inside of her.

“Me, too…me, too…”

An hour later, they were both wet but with sweat instead of rain. The sheets and blanket had been tossed aside. Their bodies were twined together as they continued those kisses from earlier, making up for lost time.

They’d covered the highlights of his night with Melisandre and the rest of her accomplices’ arrests. There was more news to share on both sides but she’d asked that the rest of the night be theirs and theirs alone. He’d eagerly agreed.

He rose to one elbow, his hand caressing her bare torso. “I liked your Bugs Bunny pajama pants. I like you naked even more.”

She grinned, playfully ruffling his riot of damp curls. “I would’ve dressed up if I’d known you were coming tonight.”

“No complaints here but I’m taking one of your pretty dresses out again as soon as you’ll allow.”

“I’ll allow tomorrow night if you like but I want to go to Hobb’s, no stuffy boardroom dinners or trendy restaurants with paps lurking about.”

“Agreed. As for the tabloids, they’ll know we’re together soon enough.”

“Good.”

“Sansa…I know I need to give it up.”

“The wolf?”

He nodded. “I can’t be parted from you like that again. I can’t endanger you either.”

“Jon, I love you for who you are…all of you. Don’t feel like you have to change or make me promises that you can’t keep.”

“I don’t think that and I don’t plan on breaking any promises to you either but the wolf was supposed to be about justice and looking out for people, not killing hired thugs and playing mind games. My mother…”

“You’re worried what she would think?”

“Yeah.”

“I don’t think your mother would disapprove of anything you’ve done considering what Lady Melisandre had in mind.”

“Thank you but…I still want to help but I think there’s bound to be a better way for me to do it like you suggested during our first date. I just need to figure out how exactly.” He looked up from where he’d been caressing her, his expression vulnerable once more. “And if we were to ever start a family someday…jumping from rooftops and dodging bullets, isn’t a proper hobby for a family man. I’d want to be there for bedtime stories and getting kids off to school and…just all of it.”

She smiled, her heart feeling so full of love for this man. She pressed a kiss to the back of his hand. “That’s the kind of promise I’d like to hear about. We’ve got time to figure it out.”

He sighed and pulled her into his arms. She happily laid her head upon his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. “I want to be a man you can be proud to introduce to your family, Sansa.”

“You’re already that man, Jon.”

 

* * *

 

 

  
**Four Months Later**

 

Davos tossed the shrimp into the sautéing pan as Sansa ducked around him to retrieve the parmesan from the refrigerator. The kitchen was larger than the one she was used to but she was finding her way around it more easily than their protégé.

“There’s no need to check it so often, sir. The asparagus can’t steam properly if you take off the lid every second.”

“Sorry,” Jon said sheepishly, replacing the lid again.

“It’s alright, lad. The pasta’s done and you can take that up. Just don’t burn yourself.” He heard Sansa snickering under her breath. “Now, don’t be rolling your eyes at me behind my back, sir. Just because you’ve not been shot at or leapt off any buildings lately doesn’t mean I’ll stop trying to take care of you.”

“Sorry, Davos, and thank you taking care of me,” he laughed before giving him a one-armed hug.

“Well, that’s…alright then,” Davos said with a satisfied nod.

The doorbell rang and Sansa went to answer it.

They had guests coming over for dinner to celebrate the newly remodeled penthouse and Sansa officially moving in. When they’d talked of yellow and blue walls, Davos had thought Jon meant to move into her place and been very downcast at the thoughts of knocking around the penthouse all alone.

However, that was not what they’d intended. Sansa had given up her apartment (or impromptu operating room as she’d joked) and Davos had happily gone furniture shopping with her while Jon had happily agreed to every suggestion they had made.

Sam Tarly was the first to arrive, followed by Rickon and Shireen (dear children who might need some looking after too, he thought) and lastly, Chief Bywater.

The former detective had been promoted by Mayor Baratheon just last month after Chief Slynt and several of his corrupt cronies had been arrested. Slynt had been accepting bribes and looking the other way for years as well as dabbling in his own vices but he’d literally been caught with his pants down (and handcuffed to his bed) after a prostitution sting where he’d been hoping to use promises of dropped charges to receive free services. Unfortunately for him, the so-called Call Girl Ros had actually been borrowed from Winterfell’s Police Department in a little interoffice sting to finally rid Kings Landing of its bent top cop. Witnesses had been coming out of the woodwork ever since and Slynt was looking at several years behind bars.

 _“He should have a lot of fun in prison with the thugs he couldn’t get money out of and his winning personality,”_ Bywater had smirked.

Melisandre and her Shadowbinders were all awaiting their trials as well. The lady was being heavily guarded as she had already had one escape attempt that was nearly successful. But her superiors in Essos had been captured thanks to an international cooperative effort of law enforcement that had spanned three continents and all the neurotoxin was believed to have been recovered. Sam had even started working on an antidote for it at his lab.

Meanwhile, Sansa was busy at the hospital naturally and, though she’d not had a wounded wolf to treat lately, she did have a younger brother who tended to have his share of mishaps increased by his rising interest in Parkour.

_“It’s just for fun…a hobby.”_

She had not believed him and warned him that she’d better not find a suit hidden in his dorm room or one of Jon’s spare masks. Davos wouldn’t mention the mask he’d allowed the boy to take for his own amusements to Sansa but he did beg Rickon to think of his dear old Dadvos’ heart before getting in over his head.

Speaking of work…

“I’m thinking of retiring from the company,” Jon announced as dinner was winding down.

“Retiring at 30? Must be nice,” Bywater scoffed.

“What would my mother say about that, right?” Sansa squeezed his hand. “No, it will take a little time. I need to find someone smart, innovative and trustworthy enough to guide it into the future, someone who’ll care about it in a way I simply don’t but that’s my plan.” He took another sip of his wine and looked across the table. “What did you say your major was again, Shireen?”

The girl flushed prettily and stammered, “Um…business management.”

“She’s thinking of pursuing a double major to get a marketing degree, too,” Rickon chimed in. “Ouch, that’s my foot!” Shireen rolled her eyes at him and her blush deepened. “What? You’re brilliant and everybody should know it.”

Before the poor girl could come even closer to resembling a tomato, Sansa eased the conversation onward, no doubt knowing that Jon would approach Shireen one on one later. “And what are you going to do with yourself when you retire? Play polo whilst sipping champagne? Crash up some more ridiculously expensive cars? Lie around on a beach all day working on your tan while I work my fingers to the bone at the county emergency room?”

“No,” he smiled. “I’m going to continue what I started as Night Wolf but on the right side of the law this time. I’ve already got a partner lined up,” he said nodding to Sam. “I may even be looking for an intern as we get things rolling.”

“Holy shit! Do you mean me?!” Rickon asked, jumping to his feet. “He means me, doesn’t he, Sansa?!”

“As long as it won’t involve you getting shot at or stabbed, I’m allowing this. Now, please sit back down, Rickon.”

“Of course, this is all a couple of years off.” The kids still had a good ways to go in college after all. “And Sansa and I will be taking a trip to Winterfell next month.”

“Yes, I’ve got a couple of weeks of vacation coming and figured it was time for Jon to meet the rest of the family.”

“Two weeks at Mom and Dad’s?”

“Well, maybe not two weeks. I had mentioned I’ve always wanted to see the Summer Isles,” she answered, giving Jon a sultry look.

“Yes, it’s awfully warm down there though. You’ll need to pack plenty of pretty sundresses.”

“And perhaps I need to do a little swimsuit shopping.”

“For a very little swimsuit, I hope.”

Davos schooled his features to hide his smirk as Jon kissed her hand. _Solitaire for me tonight, I suppose._

However, the staring (or eye fucking to borrow Rickon’s colorful term) was going on a bit long and he cleared his throat to help the lovebirds remember themselves…and their guests. _What would they do without me anyway?_

As everyone adjourned to the living room with their desserts or coffee, the doorbell rang and Shireen volunteered to answer it.

“Dad? What are you doing here?”

“Mayor Baratheon, welcome,” Jon said, clearly as puzzled as everyone else by their unexpected caller.

He kissed the top of his daughter’s head before speaking. “I’m sorry to interrupt your dinner party, Mr. Snow, but Shireen had mentioned coming over and there was something I’d like to discuss with you outside of town hall.”

An hour later, the dinner party had broken up for the night and it was just Sansa and himself in the kitchen setting up a game of checkers when Jon entered.

“Alright, it’s just us now,” Sansa said. “What did he want? I know he praised my lemon cake but that’s not what brought him here.”

“He knows I’m Night Wolf.”

“What?!”

“Shireen didn’t tell him but I think he figured it out on his own between some things he’d overheard her and Rickon discussing.”

“What’s he going to do about it?” Davos asked fretfully. The mayor had been very vocally opposed to Jon’s hobby at one time and called for his arrest on more than one occasion.

“Nothing.”

“Well, obviously nothing,” Sansa huffed. “You saved his daughter. He couldn’t possibly…”

“That’s not all of it though. He said that good deeds couldn’t always absolve past misbehavior.”

“He can’t be serious!”

“It’s hard to tell with Stannis but I think it might’ve been a joke. Anyway, he said he hoped my days of wearing the mask were behind me for the most part.”

“The most part?”

“Except for when the city’s in danger and really needs somebody, a defender, a…”

“A wolf.”

“Yes. He gave me this.”

He held out what appeared to be a ceremonial Key to the City made of gold. There was a snarling wolf’s head of moonstone and onyx etched into its ornamental bow.

And, as the three of them gathered around to stare at it, the wolf’s eyes glowed red.

“What’s that?”

“My signal.”

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, I avoided writing too much of the action stuff this time. I prefer the interpersonal stuff and getting my lovebirds back together so I hope no one's too disappointed by that. 
> 
> Obviously, I left this one open-ended enough for me to revisit at some point if I choose to. I've enjoyed writing this AU and it didn't seem right to tie-up a story like this with a wedding, a picket fence and 2.4 kids. We'll see if Night Wolf and his angel/doctor return or not though. 
> 
> Anyhoo, thank you all so much for reading!


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